


Elysium

by graygoyle



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon LGBTQ Female Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimson Flower Route, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, LGBTQ Female Character, Loss of Parent(s), Lust, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Romance, Scars, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 171,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23555380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graygoyle/pseuds/graygoyle
Summary: Heir to the massive Adrestian Empire, Edelgard von Hresvelg embarks on a quest to achieve her vision for the future. Upon encountering a mysterious mercenary named Byleth Eisner during a time of peril, she is faced with a precarious decision: should she trust the woman that just saved her life? Or could this woman be destined to foil her ambitions?This story explores the emotional, and eventually physical, relationship between Edelgard and Byleth based on their encounters in the game Fire Emblem: Three Houses (with obvious creative liberty taken).
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 499
Kudos: 887





	1. The Ashen Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery is about to begin the school year. Edelgard von Hresvelg, House Leader of the Black Eagles, is shocked to discover the monastery’s newest professor is very familiar...

Bells tomed their sullen chime as the rising sun shone on their golden domes. The gonging sound resonated from a mountainous cathedral, sending white-winged doves soaring into the pastel sky. Their feathers fell like snow onto the cobblestone walkways that snaked through the famed monastery, Garreg Mach. All the glory of the goddess was held here for the last millennium, within the smooth stone walls and stained glass. 

At least, that was what Edelgard was told. She stood at the footsteps of Garreg Mach, daring to be a skeptic. Seeing the monastery in the flesh was humbling, to say the least. Even as the heir to the Adestrian Empire, with roots ensnared in vast palace walls and ornate courtyards, she was taken by the majesty and grandeur of the holy site. It was like nothing she had seen before. She was careful to swallow her awe as a slew of footsteps approached her from behind. 

Turning, Edelgard’s scarlet cape waved at the incoming students. Nobles and commoners alike were allowed to seek tutelage at Garreg Mach’s Officers Academy, and the students entered in droves. Edelgard meticulously plucked out every face in the crowd _. Noble, his father owns land in the Kingdom. Commoner, she has calluses on her palms... probably a blacksmith’s daughter.  _ Another noble from the Kingdom—a duke’s daughter—was keen on wooing yet another blueblood that was bent on looking anywhere but in her direction. He would never look at Edelgard, though. No one simply looked at Edelgard; they stared openly and then shied away whenever she met their prying eyes. They were all the same, the nobles. They sung the same tune at court, danced the same dances at balls, and all spoke with silver tongues. Edelgard knew she was no exception, but that did not stop her from appreciating the commoners more. They came from vastly different lives; no commoner was alike, yet… they were considered just that… “common.” Some could be bakers or priests or blacksmiths or mercenaries—

Edelgard’s eyes widened. 

Within all the commotion of the influx of students, one body moved with an aloofness that Edelgard quickly learned to recognize. While she continued to get the shy glances and awed mutterings of passersby, one said nothing, and only gazed forward with pale blue eyes that reminded Edelgard of the summer sky. Her heart fluttered. Those same eyes gazed into her in the moment her life was saved from the onslaught of an axe.

“Edelgard.” She stood a step below her, still gazing with her pale blue eyes. Her face, framed by teal-colored locks, held no smiles nor cheer nor any emotion. “Hello.”

Edelgard blinked, still caught in reminiscing the moment she saved her. The clatter of an axe against a blade sounded again. The sight of the mercenary running towards her, keeping her safe as she stood in harm’s way. 

“Byleth,” she greeted, managing to maintain an air of calm despite her frayed nerves. She felt a smile cross her face, small but earnest. “Good morning. How does it feel to stand on the steps of the esteemed Garreg Mach?”

“It feels… overwhelming,” Byleth admitted, staring down at the steps. Her eyes returned to Edelgard again. “But here I am.”

“I trust you will be joining your father within these walls?” Edelgard knew she was prying, but she had greed in her heart. She wanted to know more of her savior with the cold face and distant gaze. After Byleth had saved her, she offered her a career within the Empire; it was the least she could do to settle her debt. If Byleth refused, Edelgard did not know how to repay her. 

Byleth said no more, but stepped up to stand beside her. She was regarding the monastery with a guarded expression. It was the same expression she wore during the heat of battle, when the air smelled of blood and was full of screams. Even then, that cool expression of Byleth’s never faltered. Edelgard could not help but wonder what she had to hide. She felt a tug of longing in her chest again. 

“I am not sure what I will do here,” Byleth said. Her eyes stole a glance at Edelgard. “There’s much to consider.” 

“What are you saying?”

Edelgard was not given an answer. Instead, Byleth walked into the monastery without saying a farewell. She watched the other go in wonder. Something about her was… different. It made unease well up in Edelgard. 

“Wow, is she the one you were talking about?” A familiar, gushing voice greeted Edelgard before she got the chance to breathe. She turned to see Dorothea beaming in her direction. “She’s so… mysterious. I saw her walking on her own in the crowd. She moved like a ghost!”

Edelgard placed her hand on her hip, watching Byleth fade into the golden light of Garreg Mach’s courtyard. “Yes. She is the one that saved me.” 

“Hm, she’s very beautiful,” Dorothea purred, twirling her finger in her thick brown curls. “I can see why you have taken an interest in her, Edie.”

Blushing, Edelgard started at the comment her friend made. She whirled on her, huffing. “Now that’s too bold to say, Dorothea,” she chided. “I’m merely indebted to her, is all. I owe her my life, and I am grateful for her bravery that day… I don’t know what would have become of me, or the Empire, had she not been there.” 

“Of course, it’s not my place to say.” Dorothea dipped her head apologetically, only to give a wink. “But from the sounds of it, your meeting was fated. I’m curious to see what will become of you and this mysterious mercenary in the future.” 

Giggling, Dorothea trotted up the steps, waving her farewell to Edelgard. She watched Dorothea go, her face still feeling hot from blushing. Fate? Preposterous! Dorothea was always a hopeless romantic. Edelgard chalked up her friend’s teasing words to her personality. There was nothing more to her thoughts of Byleth than curiosity. Besides, she had more pressing matters weighing her down; she couldn’t be distracted. Her destiny waited on the horizon. 

The tumult of her ambition remained in her shadow, following her into the monastery. Edelgard no longer wished to admire the historic majesty of Garreg Mach, not so long as she felt a clawing at her heartstrings. _ It won’t be long now,  _ she realized. The crown she had yet to bear on her head already felt heavy. It would be a crown of thorns when she finally matured from princess to emperor, if she saw her plans through. Though she knew in her heart it was a feat meant for her, she could not prevent the pain of anxiety sitting on her chest. One would never know she was anxious, however, for she strode with an air of practiced arrogance. Her chin was held high, her steps were sure, and her eyes kept forward. She was to be an emperor. She had no time to trifle with worry, and she certainly had no time for her confusing feelings surrounding the mysterious mercenary, Byleth. 

Finally, she stepped into the classroom that would be hers. Draperies of deep scarlet and pure white dawned from the rafters, bearing the dark sigil, her sigil, of the House of Black Eagle. In the classroom, fitted with several red oak desks and adorned with paper, fresh ink, and quills, stood her classmates. The residents of her house were as well-groomed as Edelgard, and they talked amongst each other eagerly for the dawn of upcoming lectures, battles, and masteries. 

Asleep at one of the desks, with tousled green hair only barely tamed by the white ribbon tying it back was Lindhardt. At his side, prodding playfully at the end of his ponytail was Caspar. There was never a moment one was not antagonizing the other. It seemed today was Caspar’s turn to initiate the antics. 

“Maybe let Lindhardt get his last few naps in,” she suggested. “Once our classes begin at the Academy, he won’t get but a wink.”

Caspar quickly reined in his hands from Lindhart’s hair, smiling bashfully as he rubbed the back of his head. “It’s all in good fun!”

The only one that seemed to be studying was Petra. The heir to Brigid’s throne flipped diligently through a book, muttering and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth between words. She was probably rehearsing Fodlan’s language. As she studied, Dorothea sat behind her, humming a sweet tune and braiding her magenta hair. 

“Keep up the good work,” Edelgard encouraged Petra in passing.

“Yes, the work is good, Lady Edelgard!” Petra chirped. 

As she continued down the middle of the rows of desks, her eyes found something… no, someone, sitting beneath one with a book on their head. Edelgard did not need to see their face to know it was Bernadetta. She sighed softly. The poor creature was probably bound and sent to the Officers Academy in a body bag. That would be the only way to get Bernadetta to leave the safe confines of her room. Despite this, Ferdinand was trying to coax Bernadetta from her makeshift shelter. His gloved hands waved at her encouragingly, like he was trying to get a stray cat to come out of hiding.

“My Lady,” Hubert rose to greet her as she found his desk toward the back of the room. His golden eye glinted as he spoke. “I did some more research on the one called Byleth, as you requested.”

Edelgard nodded, pleased. “And?”

Hubert opened a dogeared leatherbound notebook as he took his seat again. Within the pages, she noticed his swiftly written scrawl. “Her reputation precedes her,” he began cryptically. “She could pose a problem to our,” he lowered his voice, “ventures.”

Narrowing her eyes, Edelgard crossed her arms. “Go on.”

“Her counterparts at Remire Village call her the Ashen Demon. Apparently, she’s never lost a battle. Her swordsmanship, as you’ve witnessed, is fantastic. But, she did not get her nickname for her skill with the blade.” Hubert brought his gloved fingers to his chin, pinching as his brows furrowed with thought. Edelgard only saw him like this when he was truly absorbed in a puzzle or mission. “She lacks remorse, a fitting quality for a mercenary, yes, but… The amount of humanity she lacks while she is slaying her opponents is so great, it’s inhuman. Demonic, even.”

“I’ve seen it firsthand,” Edelgard confirmed, also perplexed. “She is not an enemy I wish to make. Perhaps she will join our cause in the future? Better she come to us as an ally than an opponent.”

Hubert wrinkled his nose at Edelgard’s suggestion. He snapped his book shut, brows still furrowed, and faced Edelgard. “I can keep a close eye on her,” Hubert offered. “Before we make a strategic move to gain her favor, we must better understand where her loyalties lie and what her motives are.”

“It’s too late for that,” Edelgard murmured, exasperation growing. “I’ve already offered her a job in the Empire as repayment for her saving me.”

“My Lady, forgive me, but I must protest that decision! We don’t know her. What if she means to harm you… all the work we have endured would be for naught!”

Edelgard’s lilac gaze sharpened as her retainer dared to question her. His outburst drew the attention of their classmates, but only briefly. She rose her hand up to stop him. “I’ve made my decision. Something about her is telling me she is the one we need to realize our vision. I want her to be mine.” 

“Very well,” Hubert relented, grudgingly. He bowed his head to her. “My apologies, Lady Edelgard.”

“Your apology is not necessary, Hubert. Just keep an eye on her for me, please?” 

Hubert nodded, and then stiffened, gazing over Edelgard’s shoulder. He rose from his chair, nearly knocking over the brass ink jar in his rash movement. “That shouldn’t be an issue, considering she is in this very room.”

Edelgard glanced behind her to see Byleth, in the flesh, making her way across the classroom. Her boots clicked against the wooden floor in a menacing rhythm. She only spared the other Black Eagle students glances as they gaped at her abrupt entry. Her eyes were focused on Edelgard above all else. Edelgard straightened her posture; despite her misgivings about the Ashen Demon, she knew she needed to play nice. 

“Hello again,” Edelgard greeted. “Has your meeting with the archbishop already ended?”

“It has.” 

Byleth’s gaze flickered to Hubert as he pressed up against Edelgard’s back. Once they locked eyes, she could feel Hubert’s stance go rigid. She had known Hubert all her life, and only very few people seemed to get under his skin like Byleth. The majority of those people were no longer living. Though she trusted Hubert more than anyone, she could not shake the idea that his suspicion of Byleth was misplaced. 

“Lady Rhea invited me to become a professor in the Officers Academy,” Byleth went on to say. She did not sound thrilled, but she did not sound disappointed, either. Her strong voice was nothing but monotone. 

“A professor?!” Hubert exclaimed. His hands were balled into fists. 

“You’re a little young to be a professor,” Caspar chimed in. His blue eyes were narrowed. “What makes you so special?”

Edelgard was so preoccupied with watching Byleth’s every move that she failed to notice the entirety of her house had joined in on greeting the Academy’s latest professor. 

Byleth was unmoved by the influx of attention. Her eyes remained unflinchingly locked on Edelgard’s. She felt her heart beat faster. No one dared to stare at her the way Byleth did. Not once did Byleth falter in addressing her. It was the strangest feeling she had ever experienced, to be so openly looked upon. It made her feel vulnerable and exposed, but she refused to cross her arms and make her discomfort known.

“Congratulations on your achievement,” Edelgard replied, offering a cordial smile. “Lady Rhea must have seen the same potential I’ve seen in you to make such an offer. I’m impressed.” 

“Thank you.”

An odd sense of tension seemed to thicken the air as the two women held one another’s gaze. It strangled the classroom into silence. Even the books seemed to hold their breath. The rest of the Black Eagle students were forced to share uncomfortable glances and shuffle with unease.

“It is a pity, though. I was hoping you would lend your strength to the Empire. You can still work for me and the Empire if you find tutoring unfulfilling,” Edelgard went on, still straining a smile. “There’s no expiration date on my offer.”

“Thank you.”

Edelgard tapped her foot impatiently. What was wrong with this woman? She was purposefully holding back, that much Edelgard knew for certain. Was she trying to frustrate her? Whatever game Byleth was playing, Edelgard was ready to participate. 

“You are able to choose your House as a professor, yes?” Edelgard pressed. Her smile did not meet her eyes. “I’m sure I speak for all of Black Eagle when I say I would be honored to have you as a professor. Your work on the battlefield is unprecedented, and as the daughter of Jeralt, the Blade Breaker, you have a legacy of success in your blood.” 

At first, the rest of the students seemed to have lost their tongues. Hubert, still pressed against her, put his hand on her shoulder in a warning gesture. Edelgard knew she was taking a risk as she mentally played chess with Byleth, but if she wanted to unmask the enigma, the game had to go on. 

Dorothea was the one to break the ice. “I would be thrilled to have you as well! You’ve done an admirable deed in saving my dear Edie.” She beamed at Byleth. There was a coquettish gleam in her green eyes as she spoke. “You are by far the best-looking of all the professors in the Academy as well.”

“You seem tough enough, I guess,” Caspar relented, crossing his arms as doubt clouded his boyish face. “I hope your training is even tougher.”

Lindhardt yawned. “Will you allow us to break for naps in-between lectures?” 

“Silence!” Hubert growled. Though half of his face was covered by a mop of stringy black hair, the other half was visibly irritated. “Allow her the chance to speak. She has not even accepted us as her students. There are two other houses, after all. She seems like the type to go after Golden Deer—“

“I chose the House of the Black Eagle,” Byleth interrupted bluntly. “That’s why I came to find you, Edelgard.” 

The squeeze of Hubert’s hand on Edelgard’s shoulder became firmer. She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably when she caught the malignant gleam in his eye. She felt her heart begin to pound. Byleth wanted to find her… the thought was as terrifying as it was exciting.

“Find me?” Edelgard echoed. “Ah, because I’m the House Leader?”

Byleth nodded. 

Edelgard clapped her hands together. “I suppose we should talk business, then?” Her eyes grazed over the rest of the House. “Would you all be willing to let us exchange a few words?”

The students nodded, Bernadetta the most fervently. Seeing her disheveled purple hair bob like a dandelion caught in the wind made Edelgard smile with amusement. 

Bernadetta squeaked as she brushed passed the professor. “S-s-sorry!” She bowed her head furiously. “It w-was an accident!”

Byleth, unmoved by Bernadetta’s babbling apology, merely nodded. Bernadetta wasted no time in fleeing the scene, vanishing into the courtyard in a hasty retreat. 

Petra smiled at Byleth before she left. “I look forward to our working together,” she said. 

“Yes, I second that,” Ferdinand purred, giving Byleth a deep bow. “I have high hopes for one of your stature. Just promise you won’t go easy on us.” He gave Byleth a wink before taking his leave. 

As the students all shuffled out, only Hubert remained. His waxy complexion was wrinkled with blatant dislike as he glared at his professor. Byleth returned the glare with her own unfeeling stare. Edelgard felt like she was watching two bristling wolves growling at each other. She moved to stand between them, glaring up at Hubert. “That means you as well,” she told him pointedly. 

Hubert nodded stiffly. “As you wish, Lady Edelgard. 

Edelgard waited until his heavy footsteps vanished before she faced Byleth again. “I wasn’t lying when I said I would be honored to have you as a professor. But,” she sharpened her tone, “I will be placing high expectations on you. I’ve had many teachers, you see, and I know what I want.”

“I won’t fail you,” Byleth said. The honesty in her voice sealed her words as a promise. 

Edelgard’s heart fluttered. “May I ask you something?” 

Byleth nodded. 

“Did you… even consider the other Houses?”

“No.”

Edelgard felt her face grow hot with a blush. What’s that supposed to mean? “I see…” She found herself playing with her white hair as she pondered on Byleth’s answer. She could feel her staring as she fell silent. She felt vulnerable again. “Is there anything you want to know about the House before classes begin? About the students?”

“I only want to know about you,” Byleth replied. “I will learn of the others in time.” She took a step closer to Edelgard, and she instinctively stepped back, bumping into the desk hard enough to cause the ink bottles and quill jar to rattle. “You’re the House Leader,” Byleth went on. “If I don’t know you, then I have no right to know of those that trust you.”

Edelgard forgot how to swallow. The intensity in Byleth’s eyes was unbearable. Her words, carried by a strong voice, were clear and honest. Each syllable was clipped to a point. Edelgard was not sure what made her heart flutter so; she assumed it was fear. She eyed the hilt of Byleth’s sword and imagined her drawing it with that same cold expression she always had. 

“You’re right,” Edelgard murmured. Her voice betrayed her with a tremble.  _ Snap out of this. You are to rule the Empire! You can’t be scared of a simple mercenary.  _ She cleared her throat and rearranged her thoughts. “As you already know, my name is Edelgard von Hresvelg. I am the heir to the Adrestian Empire. My talent lies with the axe, but I am willing to learn anything.”

“When will you become the Emperor?” Byleth asked.

Edelgard’s brows pinched together in surprise. “Why does it matter?” she wanted to say. She gritted her teeth together when she found Byleth’s expression to be unreadable. A word of caution came from the back of her mind to tread carefully; she could not completely trust Byleth, not yet. 

“I intend to finish my schooling before I assume the throne.”

Byleth nodded, narrowing her eyes as she absorbed the information provided. “Why did you choose to come here?” 

“My father attended the Academy here as well. I intend to follow in his footsteps.”

“Do you miss him?”

Edelgard’s chest tightened. “Such an odd question,” she muttered, averting her eyes away. She imagined the shell of a man on the throne; there was a time he was once brimming with health and vitality. But that time had long since passed. “Yes, I do miss my father,” she realized.  _ I’ve missed him for a long time.  _

So consumed by the thoughts of her father, she failed to realize Byleth had closed the distance between them. Her tall shadow cast over Edelgard’s face, startling her. She reached out as a reflex, wanting to push her away, but in her haste she spilled the ink bottle that was shivering on the desk. Cursing, she moved to set it upright and stained her white glove in the process. 

“Sorry,” Byleth murmured. She sounded honestly apologetic. 

Without waiting for Edelgard to reply, she took her hand. Edelgard froze, staring widely at her. Byleth’s fingers were cool to the touch as they carefully slipped off Edelgard’s dirty glove. Her breathing came quicker as Byleth took a moment to gingerly turn Edelgard’s wrist and examine her palm. She was so careful with her. Edelgard never imagined the one called “Ashen Demon” to be gentle. 

“No stains,” Byleth murmured. Her blue eyes flashed when she noticed the broad, purplish scar that cut diagonally across Edelgard’s wrist. 

Upon noticing her uncovered scar, Edelgard yanked her hand away, hiding it behind her back. “It’s okay,” Edelgard assured her. “It was an accident.”

“The scar was an accident?”

“No, I meant the ink. I—“ Edelgard squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, just leave it be. Nevermind my scar.”

Byleth stared at her in silence before she nodded. “I hope I didn’t offend you.” She brought Edelgard’s gloved hand to her lips as she bowed to her. Gently, she kissed her knuckles. “I’m looking forward to working together.”

Where her lips touched, Edelgard felt warmth radiate. She brought her kissed hand to her chest as Byleth turned to leave. With her hand pressed to her chest, she could feel her heart pounding. She still failed to understand her savior, her professor. Why was she getting so close to her in the first place? A blush stained Edelgard’s pale face. As she was left alone in the classroom, she knew that she would never be able to ignore Byleth. The craving she had to understand her only grew the more they encountered one another. 

And so began her journey to exorcise the demon and unveil the woman beneath the surface. 


	2. The Sword of Damocles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the first combat training session for the Black Eagles since gaining Byleth as their professor. What could she possibly have in store for them?

Dust whirled, made airborne by the shuffling feet of scuffling iron-clad soldiers. With sweat on their brows and grit in their teeth, the sparring men clashed their swords together with guttural grunts, each trying to get the other to give way. With every blow, another was exchanged. 

_ Clack! Clack! Clack!  _

The veins in their exposed biceps pulsated through their skin as their toil took its toll. Edelgard never understood the perceived romance of combat. Especially as a bystander, she only saw beasts engaging in a brutal battle of wills, and the loser would lose their head. It was a menacing means of dominance, but a necessary evil. She narrowed her eyes as she peered through the collecting cloud of dust the soldiers kicked up. The bigger of the two had the upper hand in strength; every blow he dealt sent his opponent sliding backwards. He looked like a Golem wielding a toothpick in comparison to his mousy sparring partner. The smaller one was more nimble, however, and landed brisk strikes that collided with his opponent’s rib cage every time. 

Had it been a real battle, both would have been saturated in blood by now.

“Humans become so primal once a weapon finds their hands,” Hubert observed. He was standing beside Edelgard, cupping his chin as he watched the battle go on. 

“I don’t need to be the Professor to know they are sloppy,” Edelgard said. “It’s a wonder they are among the Knights of Seiros.”

Hubert chuckled. “Garreg Mach will lend anyone a sword if they are willing to fight for the goddess, and by extension, Lady Rhea.” Edelgard felt his gaze on her. “Then again, anyone looks sloppy compared to the Professor.”

He wasn’t wrong. Watching Byleth wield her sword was like watching an eagle strike with its talons. She was precise and fierce; it only took one or two of her strikes to land for them to become lethal. Edelgard wondered if she would see that side, the Ashen Demon, unleash at the Training Grounds today. 

This would be the Black Eagles’ first combat training session since receiving Byleth as their professor. They spent the majority of the week going over the basics in the classroom. But books could only teach so much. Edelgard had to admit, she was itching to stretch her muscles. She never thought being cooped up in a classroom would be so exhausting.  _ How can I hope to rule an Empire when I can’t even get through lectures without losing motivation?  _

“I can’t believe we are already learning some combat moves!” Caspar entered the Training Grounds with rolled sleeves and eager fists. “Professor better not hold back!”

He was followed by Lindhardt and Ferdinand, both of whom looked surprised to be entering such a dusty space. Lindhardt especially looked out of his element beside the worn bullseye targets and beaten racks of training weapons. Ferdinand, however, went straight for a lonely training lance and began to twirl it in his dexterous fingers. 

“Show off.” Lindhardt grumbled.

Ferdinand’s laugh was cut short by a loud grunt followed by a thud. Edelgard noticed the smaller of the sparring knights was smacked down onto his back. She could see the fervent rise and fall of his chest through his chain metal. To her surprise, he jumped back up and sprung into action, unaware of his audience. 

“It is curious for us to be in the Training Grounds so soon into our education,” Hubert mused. His eyes never left the knights. A wry smile molded into his pallid features. “Perhaps Professor has grown restless in her cage?”

“You have a point,” Edelgard relented. “The other Houses have yet to leave the classroom. From what I’ve heard, they won’t be training this intensely for at least another moon.”

“Well, they certainly need it. Their performance in the Mock Battle was putrid.”

Edelgard nodded in agreement with Hubert. “I think the other Houses know where we stand now, as they should have recognized from the start. Our victory was definite.”

The Mock Battle was merely a test. It was a way for the professors of the Academy to gauge where their students’ skills and experience rested, but that didn’t stop Claude and Dimitri from making a competition out of it. Edelgard played along of course, she always did. 

“Lady Rhea seemed especially impressed. I don’t think she expected the Professor to pull out a victory for our House so soon.”

“I think she did, and that’s why she sent Seteth there to witness it firsthand,” Edelgard countered. “Lady Rhea sees something in Byleth, I know it.”

“All the more reason to not trust her,” Hubert growled. 

“Not necessarily a reason not to trust her, but at least a reason to keep watch on her.”

Hubert faced Edelgard, carefully disguising his frustration with a calm smirk. “Lady Edelgard, so long as you have me by your side, you shan’t worry about Byleth Eisner, I swear it.” He gave her a bow and continued, “If she and Lady Rhea become too close, it could pose a problem to our future endeavors. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes—“

“I’m aware, Hubert.” She didn’t need to look at him to know he was displeased with her brushing off his qualms. Instead, she spotted Dorothea and Petra coaxing a distraught Bernadetta into the Training Grounds. 

“Come on, it’ll be over before you know it!” Dorothea chirped. 

“Yes! You will never know it’s over!” Petra agreed, gently pushing Bernadetta into view of the others. 

“I—I don’t want to do this! Wh-why can’t we just stay inside like the other Houses?” Bernadetta protested. 

“Because then you’ll never learn.” 

The coldness of Byleth’s voice caused the students to freeze. For a moment, the only sound in the Training Grounds were the clatters of clashing swords. Byleth was leaning against one of the wooden pillars keeping the weapons storage upright, eyeing Bernadetta. Edelgard watched as Byleth approached the trembling student, and something protective stirred inside of her. Would she discipline her for complaining? 

To her surprise, Byleth retrieved a neatly wrapped package from within her dark overcoat. Bernadetta gaped at the gift, eyes shimmering with emotion. 

“I told you there was cake outside,” Byleth said as Bernadetta took the small package with trembling hands. “I wouldn’t lie to you.” 

“Th—thank you, Professor!” Bernadetta squeaked, quickly tucking away her gift. 

“Let’s do good work today,” Byleth murmured, looking at Bernadetta, Dorothea, and Petra in turn. 

Edelgard’s expression was shattered, and she was too puzzled to put the pieces back together. Byleth talked to Bernadetta outside the classroom? Gave her a gift? That didn’t seem right. Slowly, Edelgard approached her professor, feeling her feet becoming harder to move as she drew near. 

“Aw, what about my cake?” Caspar whined. His eyes were bright with amusement. 

“It doesn’t take cake to get you out on the field,” Byleth replied, passing him and Ferdinand as she neared the sparring pit. 

Edelgard was too consumed by watching Byleth to realize the mousy knight was rendered onto his back again. The Golem of a man was mercilessly bringing the brunt of his training blade down against his opponent’s iron breastplate. The clatter of the impacting sword was akin to smacks of thunder as the assaulting knight was lost to the storm of battle. The unhinged gleam in his brown eyes disturbed Edelgard. The defeated knight wailed and cried out as every crash of the blade bruised his sternum, and he tried in vain to scrabble backwards across the sand and away from his attacker. She held her breath as she watched Byleth quietly enter the pit. 

The assaulting knight paid no heed to Byleth’s entrance and lifted his sword again as his opponent pleaded, “I yield! I yield!”

Without hesitation, the large knight brought down his sword, only for Byleth to intercept. A loud ringing noise sounded. Edelgard’s jaw dropped as she caught the glint of the steel armor on Byleth’s forearm, which she had used to deflect the attack. In a flash, she brought her armored arm down onto the knight’s thick wrist, causing him to grunt and drop the sword. The knight gawked after Byleth, sweat pouring down from his helmet to slicken his flushed face.

“What’s your name?” Byleth demanded coldly. 

“It’s… I’m Rothbart, I—I go by Roth.” As the sparring knight deflated from the heat of battle, Edelgard noticed the softness in his round face. He was hardly older than the students of Black Eagle. 

Byleth seemed to be listening as she moved to help the other bewildered knight off the sand. She looked him over briskly as he dusted off his chain metal and iron plates; his face seemed swollen and his eyes were reddened by tears. 

“And you?” Byleth asked.

The defeated knight drug the back of his shaking hand across his face, smearing dirt and snot against his freckled cheek. “I’m Mason,” he mumbled. He looked just as young, if not younger, than his counterpart. 

“Rothbart.” Byleth stood between the two knights with her arms crossed. “I’m assuming you and Mason commissioned recently, yes?”

Rothbart nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes’m.”

“Then I entreat you to learn this: true strength lies in mercy.” Byleth’s eyes bore into Rothbart, but he refused to meet them. “Understood?”

Rothbart straightened to attention. “Yes’m!”

Byleth turned to Mason. “Mason…”

Mason straightened himself, sniffling, and stood at attention as well. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Get boots that fit you better,” she advised. “The ones you are wearing are too big, you will continue to stumble if you keep them on.”

“I—I will! Thank you, ma’am!” Mason stammered. 

“Now, if you two could please exit the Grounds. I have training with my students to attend to,” Byleth ordered.

“Training?” Mason gasped. “Y-you  _ are _ the one! The new professor! The daughter of Jeralt the Blade Breaker!” 

Byleth merely nodded, arms still crossed. Edelgard noticed her expression becoming more grave at the mention of Jeralt. 

“Is it true what they say?” Rothbart asked, bewildered. “Th-that you’re a demon?”

Edelgard was standing at the edge of the dust pit as she watched their exchange. When the burly one, Rothbart, asked his question, she saw Byleth’s eyes widen. Edelgard never saw a break in stoicism from her, not once, until that moment. She felt her heart pounding. Byleth deflected and disarmed an attack without ever drawing her sword. She had to understand where the “demon” reputation was coming from, right?

Still, Byleth seemed at a loss for words as the two men gaped at her. Edelgard decided it was time to intervene.

“Gentlemen,” she crooned from the sidelines. “I believe you’re cutting into our valuable training time. Professor Byleth has a tight schedule.”

Both of the men bowed at once upon seeing Edelgard. “Yes, Lady Edelgard!” they shouted in unison and made a hasty retreat. 

When the knights left, the students exploded onto the training field to join their professor. Edelgard was left standing alone with Hubert.

“That was awesome!” Caspar shouted. “You took him down like a champ, Teach!”

“Your tact was impeccable. I was about to intervene myself, but you handled those ruffians swimmingly,” Ferdinand praised. 

More and more bouts of praise and excitement flooded from the Black Eagle students. Edelgard watched, unable to hide her pleasure in seeing the pride on her classmates’ faces. “They’re really taking to her,” Edelgard murmured. 

“Are you not?” Hubert asked. 

“I—“ Edelgard watched as Byleth received the attention with a vacant expression. “I don’t know.”

“Mm, that is probably for the best. We mustn’t be swayed by bias.” Hubert gestured to the field. “Shall we join them, Lady Edelgard?”

Wordlessly, Edelgard stepped into the sandy pit. Her boots sank into the soft earth as the loose sand greedily chomped at her heels. Hubert, either by magic or talent, seemed unbothered by the lack of traction. If anything, he seemed to hover at the skin of the sand, unsinkable. 

“It was a marvelous teaching you gave,” Edelgard said, making her way to Byleth and the students. “I will be certain to report Sir Rothbart’s behavior to the necessary chain of command. The Knights of Seiros should be ashamed of such conduct.”

“That won’t be necessary, Edelgard,” Byleth said. “I believe the young knights have learned their lesson. If it happens again, I will be the one to make the report.”

Edelgard felt her face flush as her peers gaped at her. Byleth… gave her an order? She bit the inside of her cheek as she felt the heat of the sun on her face. Byleth only ever gave her orders on the battlefield, where it was most appropriate. Otherwise, she was cloaked in the freedom of making her own decisions. 

“Very well,” Edelgard permitted, nodding. “I trust your judgement.”

Silence lingered for a noticeable moment before Byleth returned her attention to the student body. “I’d like to thank you all again for your efforts during the Mock Battle earlier this week. Based on your performance, I feel this training is deserved and well-earned.”

The spotlight of the sparring arena was the only sunshine in the Grounds. The shaded sidelines concealed bystanders in shadows and kept them cool. With no shelter to lend its mercy, the open ceiling allowed heat to pour onto the students gratuitously. Edelgard squirmed in her uniform as she felt the dark material attract the light. 

Byleth stepped off the sandy field to retrieve weapons. From the wooden ledge, she tossed the training items to her students. “As our training goes on,” she continued, sharp voice cutting through the dusty air, “I will be getting you all out of your comfort zones.”

Petra and Ferdinand caught a sword and javelin respectively. 

“For now, most of you will continue to master the skills you already excel in until I feel you’re ready to learn a new craft.”

Bernadetta and Caspar were next. Bernadetta sloppily caught her bow and quiver containing arrows; some of the arrows got dumped onto the dirt in the process. Caspar heartily grabbed a training axe out of the air with a whooping noise.

“For those specializing in magic, I hope you’ve brought your tomes like I’d asked.”

Dorothea held up a massive book covered in arcane runes. “Of course!” 

Hubert, however, crossed his arms. “With all due respect, I have no need for tomes, Professor. All of my magic I know by heart.”

Byleth hopped from the ledge and landed in the arena. She considered Hubert with narrowed eyes. “Very well,” she conceded. “Prove it.”

Hubert rose to the challenge with a twitch in his expression and a stiff bow to Byleth. 

Byleth went to Lindhardt next, who regarded her with a listless expression and tired gray eyes. “Professor?” He yawned. 

“You came to me and said you do not wish to fight,” Byleth stated. “I cannot force a man’s hand to wield a sword, so I am trusting you to lend us your Faith on the battlefield.”

“Thank you, Professor.” A wan smile appeared on Lindhardt’s sallow face. “Then… what must I do?”

“I’ve yet to master the craft of healing,” Byleth admitted, eyes downcast. “But Manuela has offered her hand in help. Go to her in the infirmary and study with her for today. I will join you there when I am finished with the training here.”

“A seminar with Professor Manuela?” Lindhardt’s eyes widened. “Sounds like a lot of work—I mean, how gracious of you to arrange, Professor. I do appreciate it. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Edelgard waited with bated breath for Byleth to approach her, but instead her professor turned to the students. With both hands on her hips, she commanded her House. 

“Caspar and Petra, you will be sparring partners for today. Take breaks as needed and remember to hydrate.” 

Caspar and Petra smiled at one another, trading a high-five. 

“I won’t go easy on you,” Caspar warned. 

Petra nodded. “I will have growth from this.”

She turned to Ferdinand and Bernadetta next. “Ferdinand and Bernadetta, that leaves you two to spar. Keep your aim true and fair, no headshots.” 

“Ohh, can’t I go back to my room now?” Bernadetta whined. 

“Not a chance! We’ve only just begun!” Ferdinand laughed. 

Finally, she faced Dorothea and Hubert. “There is no such thing as training magic, so you both will participate in target practice with the bullseyes. Don’t hold back, I can pay for replacement targets if needed.”

“I never hold back,” Hubert muttered. “I hope you got a fair pension for your activities this moon, Professor.”

Dorothea nodded eagerly. “I’ll do my best, dear Professor!”

Edelgard watched the paired students break into their respective spaces. Caspar and Petra wasted no time in bringing their training weapons into full swing. Bernadetta kicked up a storm of dust in her frantic avoidance of the practice javelin Ferdinand threw her way. Soon enough, blasts of magic and smoke filled the air, darkening the Training Grounds and bringing light again in flashes of purple and blue. She was left alone, as usual. She never had much of a sparring partner in Hubert due to their vast differences in combat, and she far outclassed her weapon-wielding peers because of her years of training. 

Byleth caught her looking discouraged. “I have not forgotten you,” she murmured, standing before her. 

Edelgard started, she had not even heard the professor approaching. “Of course not! I know there isn’t much you can do with me; my skills are quite polished as it is.” 

“I agree, the way you carry yourself on the battlefield is something to behold,” Byleth remarked. 

A blush found its way onto Edelgard’s face. “I… Thank you.” 

“But you still have much to learn,” Byleth added shortly. 

“What do you mean?” Edelgard demanded, trying to dampen her indignant tone with a smile. 

“You too carelessly throw yourself in harm’s way,” she explained. “While you have the strength to overcome nearly any opponent, you too often charge ahead on your own and leave yourself vulnerable.”

“I’ll have you know that I can take care of myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to.”

Edelgard blushed, flustered again. Byleth was as unreadable as always, but her words felt so sincere they sent her mind spiraling in confusion. “Then what is your solution?” she demanded, trying her best not to sound huffy and failing. 

“I will be your sparring partner.” 

“You?” Edelgard smiled. She was flattered by the gesture. “I see… Very well, I accept your challenge, Professor. I hope you realize I won’t be holding back!” 

In her hands, Byleth trusted her with a training sword. Edelgard gripped the hilt, wide-eyed. She raised the blade experimentally; it was lighter than her axe, clearly meant for languid movement and not blunt trauma. She frowned. “You gave me a sword?”

Byleth nodded. “You are nearly a master of the axe. I have no doubt that you can continue to shape your craft in action without assistance. So, I think we should try something new.”

Slicing the sword through the air, she was surprised by her own swiftness. She was used to bringing all her strength down with one blow, but a sword could never break someone in one hit, not unless that sword was partnered with Byleth. The alien feeling of the weapon in her hand made her palms sweat. She tightened her grip around the training sword until her knuckles burned and turned white. This was a test. 

“I’m ready, Professor. Teach me.”

Byleth brought forth her own training sword, leaving her true saber in the confines of its ebony sheath. Her eyes glinted as she removed her overcoat and tossed it to the sidelines. Edelgard was always astounded by Byleth’s lack of armor. She only shielded her most vulnerable areas. Her forearms and knees were guarded by steel plates. Her chest was complemented by a form-fitting dark steel breastplate that took the shape of a bustier. The rest of her body, however, remained uncovered. Her sunkissed skin was laced with old scars she received from past battles, some more broad than the next. With every movement, her muscles rippled, promising power. Edelgard’s throat felt dry.

“Your stance is too rigid,” Byleth began. “Remember, the sword is an extension of your body, not an addition to it. Bring it in. Let it become you.”

Slowly, Edelgard drew her sword nearer, mirroring Byleth’s stance. She exhaled, already feeling sweat drop from her brow. Around them, explosions of spells being cast and clanking of warring weapons sounded, but she could only focus on the sound of her own heartbeat. 

Byleth suddenly stroked her sword through the air, the blade cut before Edelgard with a sharp hiss. She jerked backwards in surprise, her pale hair catching the light and shining. Byleth moved closer, streamlike, keeping her feet apart. 

“What was that for?” Edelgard demanded. 

“That is how you swing with a sword,” Byleth answered candidly. She nodded to Edelgard. “Now it’s your turn.”

Edelgard didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward, bringing her sword down with vengeance as she sliced through the air before Byleth. Unlike Edelgard, Byleth didn’t flinch. She only stared at her with a frown. 

“Why do you use such force?” Byleth wondered aloud. “Again, think of the sword as a piece of yourself. Would you go flailing your limbs so harshly into combat? No, for they would surely be dismembered.”

Edelgard clenched her teeth. Embarrassment flooded her senses.  _ She’s toying with me! She just wants to treat me like a child!  _ Her lilac eyes burned into Byleth’s.

“Try again,” Byleth urged. 

Returning to their positions, Edelgard squeezed the sword at the hilt. The sun bore down on her from above. Her face was flushed with the heat, and it made her heart pump faster. Again, without hesitation, she charged for Byleth. This time, she drew the sword over her head before bringing it down. She smiled. It was a clean slice. But Byleth was not impressed.

“Again,” she said. 

Edelgard thought if she squeezed the handle of her sword any tighter it would break. She careened her blade from the side cutting two and fro in fervent, fierce movements. The dull training blade stole the light of the sun, flashing with each movement. With every onslaught, Byleth took a step back, effortlessly keeping herself out of harm’s way. She made it look so easy! Frustration boiled within Edelgard. Everyone else always seemed to have it so easy. 

“Argh!” she shouted, charging forward again. 

This time, her strike was stopped by a dull clang. Byleth brought her sword up to meet Edelgard’s, and they were locked in a stalemate. Their eyes were forced to face one another through the crossed blades and swirling dust. Byleth seemed calm, but her eyes were searching Edelgard’s face. Was she trying to find weakness? Edelgard flexed her arms and shoved forward against Byleth. Sweat flicked off her strands of white hair to rain on the sand. She was never this frazzled. Why did Byleth have to torment her so?  _ It’s like she is trying to make a fool of me, _ she fretted, dejection weighing her confidence down. 

Their blades quivered against one another in a war of wills. 

“Do you not trust me?” Byleth asked suddenly. There was a slight strain to her voice. 

“What?” 

The blades continued to shiver. 

“If you trusted me, you would be more willing to listen to me,” Byleth explained. 

Edelgard broke from her gaze as a new battle was waged inside of her. Did she trust Byleth? There was something in her that did; something within wanted her to trust Byleth completely with her life. However, it was the shadow of her mounting ambition that beckoned for her to err on the side of caution. It whispered heinously of all the time and energy that would be lost to a betrayal. It told her to walk her path alone. Her arms strained to keep her grip on the blade, they began to tremble. 

“I—!” Edelgard’s grip slipped from the sword as her sweaty palms surrendered to the hilt. 

Byleth dropped her sword and steadied her with a cool hand. “Maybe we should practice defensive maneuvers,” she suggested softly, staring down at Edelgard. 

Edelgard felt like she swallowed the sword rather than dropped it. The pain of hearing even the slightest inkling of disappointment in Byleth’s voice was enough to render her speechless. Retrieving it from the ground, she sighed heavily. She wanted nothing more than for this training to end. Only the fleeting touch of Byleth’s steady hand seemed to comfort her. 

“To present an adequate defense, you must rely on your posture more than your blade.” Byleth widened the space between them, bringing her blade back like a praying mantis preparing its strike. “The sword is like the axe in this way. An unsteady stance with either weapon will leave a hole in your defenses.”

Edelgard nodded, panting gently. “Understood.”

“Keep your knees bent and your eyes on me,” Byleth ordered. 

Obeying, Edelgard assumed a defensive position. Byleth was right. It was much like her posture while equipped with her axe. She felt her breathing slow as she relaxed into her new role. 

Quick as a striking viper, Byleth pursued a strike to Edelgard’s knees. She jumped just as the blade hissed at her legs and landed on the side. Byleth then swung forward, jabbing at Edelgard’s chest. Edelgard knocked back the blow with her blade. Again, she swung, but Edelgard brought her blade to meet the strike. They danced around one another, kicking up sand and grunting like tussling animals. None of Byleth’s strikes hit Edelgard. There was always a short delay before every attack, just enough to catch Edelgard’s attention. 

“You’re going easy on me, Professor,” she hissed. “I can take it! Show me what I know you can do.”

Byleth was silent. The two women had their swords pointed at the other, panting heavily. Around them, the Black Eagles continued their training with excited cheers and the occasional laugh or explosion. Byleth, however, did not share their enthusiasm, and Edelgard mirrored her displeasure. 

“Do you think me a child? A weakling?” Edelgard challenged, still panting. “Why do you hold back when you know I know what you’re capable of?”

Byleth straightened her posture, bringing her sword down to her side. “That’s enough training for the day,” she decided in monotone. 

Frustration boiled hot in Edelgard’s belly. Her eyes burned into Byleth’s as she grimaced. Her pale hair was sticking to her face in messy strands, but her rage was clear. “That’s not good enough. I demand a rematch, Professor!” She took a step forward as Byleth moved to get her overcoat. “Are you not the Ashen Demon they speak of? How could you leave me—“

At first, Byleth only stiffened, but when she turned Edelgard had no chance to react. Like lightning, Byleth struck her. Pain shot up Edelgard’s wrist as her sword went flying. It clattered onto the sand with a ring and a hiss. Disturbed by her disarmament, she fell backward, exposed to the needle point of the training blade. To her horror, Byleth had it pointed to her throat. Edelgard’s mouth was opened in terror and shock as she scrambled to retrieve her weapon. To her dismay, Byleth placed her boot into Edelgard’s strong arm, and she became immobile. 

In Byleth’s eyes was the glare of an indecipherable emotion. Was it rage… or pain? Edelgard stared up at her, breathing raggedly. 

“Our training is over,” Byleth reiterated. She tossed the sword she had pointed at Edelgard’s throat to the side and offered her hand as she stepped off of her.

Edelgard swallowed nervously and took Byleth’s hand. Once she was brought to her feet again, she started to dust off her uniform. “Professor,” she rasped. 

“The purpose of fighting is to kill. The purpose of training is to learn. If you want to fight me as an enemy, I refuse; I will not use my true power against a student in my charge.”

“I’m sorry,” Edelgard apologized. She shoved her wounded pride deep within, but still could not face Byleth. “I spoke out of turn, my teacher.”

Byleth placed her hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. It was a gentle and reassuring gesture. She gazed at Byleth, seeing a slight softening to her usually cold features. “You have nothing to prove to me,” Byleth reminded her. “I know what you can do.” Her hand squeezed her shoulder gently. “And I know I’ve yet to earn your trust, but that won’t stop me from trying.”

Byleth left Edelgard to address the students still training. A strange pit opened up inside of her as she reflected on her actions. She lost herself. She shouldn’t have said those things to Byleth. Her heart felt heavy as she noticed the divide between them deepen. Bringing her hand up to her throat, she brushed her fingertips against her jugular gently. Byleth had plenty of opportunities to let Edelgard get hurt, but she never took them. Instead, she was always there for her. Edelgard felt rotten, so rotten she wanted to return to her quarters and sleep for a moon. 

“Attention!” Byleth’s voice cut through the air. “Please, return your weapons and targets, training has ended.”

From the cathedral, the brass bells tolled, telling the time was midday with several heavy gongs. The sun was at its highest now. Heat soaked the air of the Training Grounds, warming the already musty air with humidity. The students were disheveled by their hard work; they reassembled in the arena after clearing the debris, looking fatigued. Their brows were glistening with sweat and their garments were soiled and dusted with dirt. Byleth surveyed her students, nodding as Edelgard joined them. 

“Good work today, everyone. Before we break, I have our mission for this moon,” Byleth reported. “We are charged with ridding of bandits in the area. I understand this will be the first real battle for some of you, so expect more training days like this. Please meet me back in our classroom after lunch for homework assignments.”

“Bandits? Cool! I’m going to knock them all down!” Caspar crowed. 

Edelgard did not share her classmate’s zeal. Instead, she felt nauseous. The bandits... There was only one band of thieves so close to the monastery, and they were led by the same brutish man that nearly killed Edelgard. Fear crawled up her back, ready to sink its fangs of dread into her neck. 

“Professor, how about you join me for lunch?” Dorothea asked sweetly. She was holding Byleth’s arms, her bright green eyes beaming at her. 

“What? No! You will just talk about boring stuff. Professor is going to have lunch with me. We can talk strategy about the upcoming bandit fight, right?” Caspar intervened, arms crossed.

Both students walked alongside Byleth as she said, “I can have a meal with both of you.”

“Aw—I wanted you to myself,” Dorothea pouted. “But very well. I guess I can share.”

Caspar stuck his tongue out at Dorothea as they left with Byleth and the rest of the class. Edelgard watched them go, rubbing her sore wrist. A strange longing rose within her as she watched them leave. She imagined herself among them, eating with the Professor and sharing laughs, and realized her chance was gone. She did not know why that made her feel disappointed. 

“Lady Edelgard!” Hubert came to her, taking her hand in his. “Did that brute harm you? When I saw her standing over you like that, I wanted to—“

“I’m fine, Hubert,” Edelgard muttered, taking her hand back. “It was my fault. I pushed her.”

“Your Highness, you mustn’t think in such a way. She is our teacher! She must have control over her emotions and not fall prey to simple taunting.”

“Hubert, you misunderstand. I was upset. I intentionally said things to her to make her snap.” Edelgard crossed her arms, looking away from him in shame. “She was only trying to teach me.”

“I realize I too owe a debt to Byleth for protecting you when I could not, but I cannot stand by and allow her to make a fool of you!”

“Oh? A fool was I?” Edelgard’s voice rose as she glared at Hubert. “It was my fault, so leave it be.”

“My apologies, Lady Edelgard. I will not speak on the matter further.” He bowed to her. “Regardless, we have to focus,” Hubert murmured. “Those bandits… It has to be Kostas.”

“I know. I’ve already confronted him, though. He is aware of his lack of use to me anymore—so he’s probably acting rashly to purposefully wreak havoc.”

“You should’ve had me deal with him,” Hubert growled, clenching his fists. “I would have made quick work of his head; his mind is already half mush, after all.” A cruel chuckle escaped him. 

“No. He does not know who you are, and I can’t risk him finding out. He doesn’t even know who I am, really. How else do you think I got caught beneath his axe?”

“So, what will you do, then?”

“We will carry on as normal. If Kostas is really leading those bandits… Then we will make sure his next stand is his last.”

“And Byleth?”

Edelgard stiffened. “What about her?” 

“How will we deal with her?”

Edelgard stepped into the shadows of the sidelines, holding her bruised wrist. Her eyes held a glare. “The only one that will be dealing with her is me.” 


	3. Blood Begets Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles take on their first mission at the Red Canyon, unaware of the peril that awaits them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING!**  
>  This chapter contains scenes of graphic violence and gore. If you are sensitive to content of this nature, please skip this chapter.

Pale light filtered through the shivering oak leaves as dawn blessed Fodlan with sunshine. The Black Eagles marched through the woods with their weapons in tow, polished and prepped for battle. The rhythmic clanging of armor sounded from the battalion that accompanied them; the voices of men swapping war stories and lovelorn woes echoed through the trees. Above, song birds hopped from branch to branch, twittering nervously as they watched the soldiers carry on. Though there was a chill in their hearts for the carnage to come, the warm air of the Harpstring Moon solaced them. The fresh air was sweet with the promise of a bountiful harvest in the following moon, lending yet another incentive to stay alive another day. The flora above and around the Black Eagles was budding with life, with no fear of the impending bloodshed.

Caspar was tossing an apple up and catching it back in his calloused palm. “So... when we get to Zanado, what’s the plan?” he asked. 

Edelgard walked beside him in silence. She too wished to know what their Professor’s intentions were, but Byleth was more stoic than usual as she led her students to battle. She walked ahead of the others, her gait as silent and menacing as a panther on the prowl. Edelgard did not need to see Byleth’s face to know that it was as cold and hardened as a statue. Ever since their heated encounter in the Training Grounds, she felt a rift between them. It pained her even now. 

“The plan is to win, of course!” Ferdinand came to walk beside Caspar, snatching his apple from mid-air with a smirk. “If anyone can handle those ruffians, it’s us.”

“You are a fool to think it would be so easy,” Hubert rumbled from behind. 

Edelgard could hear the storm in her brooding vassal’s voice. He was put on edge ever since the mission was announced. She knew why. Ahead, buried in the Red Canyon, was a liability.  _ Their _ liability. 

“A man of your stature should be more confident!” Ferdinand tutted. “We are nobles! It is our sworn duty to curb the rabble.”

“Oh, then by all means, Mr. Noble, take the lead. I wager you can take them all out on your own, hm?” Dorothea’s singsong voice was plagued with irritability. 

A blush colored Ferdinand’s face. “Ah, Dorothea, you misunderstand—“

“Yes, I know. Us in the “rabble” misunderstand a lot, don’t we?” Dorothea’s voice was raised even more so. 

“Enough,” Edelgard said, rubbing her temples. “We are about to march into our first battle together. We need each other if we are going to get through this.”

“Sorry, Edie,” Dorothea murmured. 

“Yes, our apologies,” Ferdinand seconded. 

“Look, I understand emotions are running high right now.” Edelgard sighed. “But we must keep a level head through this. Our lives are on the line. These bandits won’t be using the training weapons we’ve been sparring with.”

“I know! Isn’t it exciting?” Caspar had his apple back, leaving Ferdinand rubbing his side with a pained expression. He took a hearty bite of the fruit. “I can’t wait to get out there and make some heads roll.”

“My head will not be rolling today!” Petra barked. 

“It’s just an expression, dear,” Dorothea warned. 

“Wh—what? You mean… there’ll be b-b-blood?!” Bernadetta shrunk beside Lindhardt.

The movement seemed to stir him from a sleepwalk, for he shook his head briskly and gave a yawn. “Eh, battle, how barbaric…” Lindhardt’s face twisted with disgust. 

Laughter erupted around them. Edelgard frowned at the battalion flanking either side of the students. They were accompanying Byleth, which meant they were a part of the Black Eagle House. That didn’t make Edelgard appreciate their company, however. 

“Aw, look at that, the kiddies are getting scared,” one jeered. His grizzled jaw was mangled with a hideous scar. His cruel gaze honed in on Bernadetta. “What’s wrong, cutie? Afraid of getting that pretty face licked?”

A belch of a chuckle left another one of them. “Maybe we should’ve brought some desks? That way they can sit back and learn how it’s done.”

“Don’t pay them any mind,” Edelgard told her classmates. “They just want to get under our skin.” 

Caspar didn’t listen. “Oh, yeah?! I bet I can take down twice as many bandits as you!”

The laughter only got louder. Edelgard felt rage well up inside her. It was obvious these men and women belonged to Jeralt and not the Knights of Seiros. The mercenaries, clad in furs and crude leather armor, feasted on their superiority, knowing the lesser students paled in comparison to them. The jeers and taunts were so crude, Edelgard began to imagine cutting them down on the battlefield instead of the bandits. 

“Ah, shuddup, pipsqueak!” the grizzled one barked. “You couldn’t squish a bird’s egg.”

“Pipsqueak?! Alright, that’s it—“ As Caspar launched himself at the mercenary, Edelgard brought her arm out to catch him. “Edelgard?” He looked at her in confusion. “Let me go! I gotta teach ‘em a lesson.” 

“Save your energy for the bandits, Caspar,” Edelgard advised him levelly. “These brutes aren’t worth it.”

“Brutes, eh?” The grizzled one laughed, and his friends joined him like a band of hyenas. He dragged his tongue across his teeth, sucking. “Why don’t you let me take you home after this? Then I can show you how much of a brute I can be.”

The laughter that was to come never arrived. Instead, a choking noise and a loud clatter came, dragging the entire party to a stunned halt. The mercenary’s scarred face was twisted in fear as he was floored by a cold hand and colder eyes. 

“B-Byleth!” he sputtered, grabbing at his neck as she squeezed his throat. “Ah—gh! I—we were just joking!”

Byleth only stared down at him. Her teal-colored hair draped down either side of her face so only the burning blue light of her eyes were left visible. Edelgard watched as Byleth squeezed harder, making the once boisterous mercenary wheeze. 

“Am I a weakling?” she asked. 

The mercenaries around her shuffled nervously as their comrade kicked and flailed against her grip. 

“N-no!”

“So, you must think I’m a fool?”

“Arrghh!” Spittle dripped from the side of the mercenary’s lips, collecting in his scraggly beard. “N-no!” His face was beginning to darken from red to purple. 

“Professor...” Edelgard moved to reach for Byleth, but she was frozen by the cold stare that was tossed over her shoulder. 

“Then why do you poke fun at my students?” Byleth demanded. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorr—yyy!” The agony in his voice was enough to make Edelgard shiver. 

Even still, some of the mercenaries around her were chuckling quietly and nudging one another. Edelgard suspected they were betting on when their comrade would pass out from lack of oxygen. 

“They belong to me. They are a reflection of me. If you think so little of them, it means you think so little of me.”

“N—no! I would never—“

“You are to march at the back of the battalion, Slater, understood?”

Slater’s mangled face was now purple. He could only nod. 

For a moment, Edelgard thought she wouldn’t release the mercenary and just let him succumb to unconsciousness. However, Byleth was merciful, stepping off Slater with her knuckles still stained white. Slater rolled to his side, coughing and spitting as he greedily drank in the air again. The mercenaries around him hooted and hollered at his expense as he crawled to the rear with his tail between his legs.

Byleth’s stare silenced the battalion. She turned to face each one of them. Some flinched, others looked away in shame. “I know this may come as a surprise to some of you, but we are no longer in Remire Village,” Byleth said. Her chilling voice cut like sleet through the warm air. “I know it is a difficult adjustment, but I ask that you show patience and look to your new counterparts as equals. In the end, you are all getting paid to be here; if this isn’t work you’re cut out for, I’m giving you the option to quit now.”

Not one mercenary broke from the ranks. 

“You are the few that stayed with Jeralt and I when we left the Village, and for that I am grateful, but I refuse to fight alongside men and women that tear each other down. Is that clear?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” The battalion shouted in unison. 

Byleth nodded once. She turned to face her students next. “Don’t let their words bring you down. Let them fuel the fire you need to prove them wrong.” 

Edelgard did not realize her heart was pounding until Byleth had already joined the front of the force again. She brought her hand to her chest, sighing shakily.

“She never ceases to amaze me,” Ferdinand mused as they resumed their march.

“Ah, what a dreamboat.” Dorothea exhaled as she mooned over Byleth. “She could throw me down like that any day…”

“Dorothea!” Edelgard scorned, face burning red at the thought.

“Oh, dear me. Did I say that out loud?” She giggled.

“For a moment, Hubert looked like he would blow that guy’s face off,” Lindhardt said. He was too bored to sound amused. 

Edelgard glanced back at Hubert, frowning. “Leave the mercenaries to the Professor. They are in her charge.”

“And I am in yours,” Hubert countered through gritted teeth. “To be so lewd to Her Highness is a crime in-of-itself. I should’ve wiped him off the face of the earth.” 

“Jeez, save it for the battlefield, won’tcha?” Caspar chuckled, finishing his apple and tossing the core behind him. 

“These mercenaries are a part of our House so long as they serve the Professor,” Edelgard reiterated in hushed tones to the other students. “Just let her handle them.” 

“Halt!” Byleth’s command echoed from ahead. 

Before them, the forest dropped into a sea of clouds. At the edge where land met sky, there was no birdsong or sunshine, only a cold haze and silence. A foreboding howl of wind rattled through the branches from the canyon. Large gray precipices curled from the clouds like fangs reaching to take a bite out of the heavens. Edelgard moved forward to stand beside Byleth. Through the veil, she saw the silhouettes of forgotten ruins left to their shambles of weathered stone. 

“It’s haunting,” she remarked. 

“Yet familiar.” Byleth’s voice was above a whisper. 

“What?” 

Byleth ignored her and turned to her soldiers and students. “We’ve reached the Red Canyon. Below, we will encounter the bandits. We can’t be certain of their numbers due to the cloud coverage, but we must assume they outnumber us.” 

Her words fell on silent ranks. The anticipation of battle charged the air until it felt electric. No one dared speak in the shock of silence. Soon, blood would fill the air as skin met steel; it humbled even the bravest of warriors. Without the adrenaline of battle to blind one’s senses to the destruction, they had to eat it raw. 

“But we outrank them in skill. I’ve fought alongside all of you, and I know we have what it takes to succeed in this mission.” 

A war-mongering cry rang out from the battalion of mercenaries. It stormed like thunder, resonating off the rocky formations below and was carried through the hollowed ruins, causing them to shiver loose pebbles from their sunken shoulders. Some of the students joined in as well; Caspar was loudest among them. 

The battalion and the Black Eagles pushed into the neck of the canyon, strangling it with metal and bodies. Their march began a symphony of organized stomps and ringing steel. Edelgard felt a coolness settle in her bones as she resigned herself to what lay ahead. She knew in her heart it had to be her to slay Kostas. She needed to repair the mess she caused. Whether she did it behind a mask or not didn’t matter. This was her fault, her responsibility. It ended today. 

They passed abandoned encampments that were strung up like cobwebs among the ancient buildings. Bones and discarded garments and sewage added to the decay of the already defiled canyon. Lost to time, Zanado was left to rot and be infested by men with greedy hearts. It reeked of carrion and waste, and it only grew stronger as they found themselves in the heart of the canyon. 

Byleth halted the battalion silently with her unsheathed sword. Edelgard followed her eyes to the frames of dozens of men cloaked in the shadows. The bandits were here. They strategically placed themselves along the crags of the crumbling city, where they watched their pursuers with wild eyes like prey held at bay. The Black Eagles held the high ground, and Edelgard could see every single bandit they would need to fall. Furthest from them, at the far end of the canyon, was Kostas. 

Kostas was the leader of the bandits. Why anyone would let Kostas lead anything was beyond her, though. He was always chomping at the bit for his next plunder, not knowing his teeth were gnawing at a snare. Even from a distance, she could see the grayish hue of his tough skin; it was the color of a man that weathered too many storms in life. His face, permanently swollen by one too many broken noses, was split with a scar that made every expression look like a scowl. 

“Of course it would be him again,” Byleth muttered. Edelgard caught her stealing a glance at her. 

“I have no quarrel facing him.” Edelgard could hear the conviction in her own voice and smiled. “I won’t let him surprise me again.”

“Just follow my lead and there will be no surprises.” 

Edelgard felt mistrust growing in her heart. If Byleth had any say about it, she doubted she would let her face Kostas. She already knew she would relegate the Black Eagles to the lower thieves spotting the ruins. As she glanced around the rugged terrain, she concocted a plan. 

“There is only one way in and one way out of the heart of Zanado, and there are two bridges leading to that single window.” One bridge was broad enough to hold the entirety of the battle party. The other shriveled in comparison, and it was cleverly tucked between two massive boulders. “If we split up our forces,” Edelgard suggested, “we could take both flanks of Kostas by surprise and prevent his escape.”

“I see,” Byleth considered this. They were standing at the edge of the single bridge that would lend their eventual escape after the battle. “How do you know his name?”

Edelgard froze. “I—I overheard it from Seteth earlier this week,” she lied. Cool sweat gathered at the back of her neck as Byleth stared her down. “I make a point to know all my enemies.”

“That’s very resourceful of you. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Edelgard felt her anxiety fade into the mist. 

“I’ll take your advice as well.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. You’re insightful. I like when you share your ideas with me,” Byleth murmured.

Edelgard didn’t think that Byleth liked anything, but that didn’t stop the warmth of her praise from swelling within her. “I’m…”

“I am trusting you to lead the second faction,” Byleth went on. 

Edelgard didn’t have a chance to voice her surprise, for Byleth was addressing the troops again. “We will split up after we cross this bridge,” she told them firmly. Her voice was purposefully low as she spoke in order to prevent it from carrying across the traitorous canyon. “I will lead the battalion through the smaller bridge in the east. Caspar and Bernadetta, you two will accompany me and the other mercenaries.”

“Alright! Let’s do this!” Caspar cheered. 

“I—I think I’m ready to go home now…” Bernadetta squeaked.

Byleth’s eyes gazed into Edelgard’s. “You will lead from the front with the rest of the students.”

Edelgard nodded, determination rising. “I won’t let you down, my teacher.” The amount of trust she placed in Edelgard was undeniable at this point. This would be her first time leading her classmates into battle. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought. 

“We will rendezvous in the center before we take on Kostas,” Byleth finished. “I have faith in all of you. Watch out for one another. If fear finds its way into your heart, remember there is always someone there to rely on. No one walks into the battlefield alone.”

The battalion and the Black Eagle students raised their fists and weapons in a cheer. Together, they crossed the bridge. Edelgard felt like she could take on the entirety of Kostas’s thieves as Byleth entered the battlefield beside her. They were greeted by two ranks of thieves. Three sword-bearers guarded the large bridge to the north, while two axe-wielders kept a foothold to the east. The fog rolling off the gathered clouds likely concealed more bandits on both fronts.

Byleth seemed to hesitate. “I’ll be waiting for you at the end,” she murmured to Edelgard. 

And like that, she was gone. Bernadetta and Caspar followed her not too far behind, and then went the rest of the mercenaries. Edelgard was left with the rest of the Black Eagles and a hole in her chest that had not been there before. 

“Lady Edelgard,” Hubert addressed her cautiously. “Shall we proceed?” 

At the distant clatter of weapons and echoes of agonized shouts, Edelgard winced. Byleth was out there… 

“Lady Edelgard?”

Edelgard shook her head, blinking out of her trance. “Yes, let’s proceed.” She looked to the students, smiling as her resolve to win settled in. “Ferdinand, Petra, and I shall lead from the front. Dorothea and Hubert, you keep to the rear and wield your magic to hit the bandits from afar. Lindhardt—“

Lindhardt’s head was bobbing as he slept. They could have been in the thick of battle and he wouldn’t have noticed. 

“Lindhardt!” Edelgard shouted as Hubert slapped his back. 

“Oh—ah, yes? Lady Edelgard?”

“Just…” Edelgard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just keep us healthy, okay?”

“Sure, sure.” Lindhardt waved her request off, his eyes only half-open. 

Sighing, Edelgard unleashed her axe from its strap, pulling it over her back so she could wield it effectively. Ferdinand stood beside her, lance in hand. A familiar hiss from a sword being drawn came next. At first, Edelgard thought Byleth rejoined them, but it was Petra standing on her other side. Her brown eyes were bright with determination as she smiled at Edelgard. 

“We will get the victory!” she said. 

Edelgard returned her smile and nodded. “Let’s go!”

Excitement bubbled within Edelgard as she stepped through the fog. She heard the footsteps of the bandits ahead and felt her muscles tighten. They were close. Her breath came slowly as she steeled her nerves. Blood pumped through her veins as her anticipation reached its boiling point. 

“There they are!” A crass voice shouted from ahead. With a cry, a young woman shot forward from the fog. Her sword shone dimly in the light as she prepared to bring it down on Ferdinand. 

From behind, a flash of light was followed by a piercing crackling noise. Thunder magic struck the charging bandit as her metal sword betrayed her and acted like a lightning rod. Her body convulsed as sparks danced around her, searing her skin. Her scream was as deafening as the blast of magic. Edelgard watched in horror as the bandit fell, smoke emanating from her electrical burns. The bandit didn’t stay down, however. She rose shakily and charged forward again with a wild gleam in her eyes. 

Ferdinand grunted, running to meet the bandit with his lance. There was a gagging noise, then a crunch as he impaled her in the throat. Blood squirted from her wound as she fell, spattering across Ferdinand’s chest. 

“They don’t stand a chance,” Ferdinand said. 

“Must we really fight this way? Is this really the teaching of the Church?” Dorothea’s voice quivered as she came to stand beside Edelgard. Her eyes were wide and glistening with tears as she regarded the corpse of the bandit. 

“We mustn’t think of that right now,” Edelgard urged her. “It’s kill or be killed, and I can’t lose you just yet.”

Dorothea nodded, staring at her shaking palms. “I had no idea… what my Thunder could do to someone.”

“Dorothea, please,” Edelgard begged. The fog was collecting around them, suffocating her with fear. “We have to get through this.”

“Look out!” Hubert’s cry was followed by the shine of a sword and Dorothea’s scream.

Edelgard only had a heartbeat to react. She pulled her axe up to take the blow. It smacked down on her with full force, but her stance stayed true. The male bandit she encountered spat at her as he pulled his sword back. Behind him, she could see purplish clouds of miasma surrounding another bandit while Petra engaged with a sword-user. 

They were overwhelmed.

“Dorothea, cover me!” she shouted. 

Charging, she swung her axe at the bandit. It only took one blow against his leather padding to split it. Blood poured from his wound in rivulets, staining the gray iron of her axe red. He bellowed in pain, and Edelgard thought he would surely collapse, but to her horror he returned his strike with her own. 

“Dammit!” she cried. Pain seared down her arm as his blade cut her shoulder. 

She swung again, gritting her teeth. Her body seemed to come alive as she brought her axe down. The already damaged leather armor fell to the unforgiving iron. The bandit’s blood was warm on Edelgard’s face. She smeared with the back of her palm as she watched the bandit gulp his last few breaths before greeting Death. 

“Edelgard, move!”

Edelgard rolled out of the way as another flash of Thunder came from Dorothea. It struck a charging axeman, blasting him backwards. He lost his footing when his boot had the misfortune of meeting a puddle of blood. His arms flailed wildly as he fell back and over the side of the bridge. His falling cry soon faded into a nightmarish memory. 

Blood and screams filled the fog, which burned purple and blue with the magic from Hubert and Dorothea. Edelgard jumped through the fog, bringing her axe down on another bandit just as he moved to slice at Petra again. His head split against the pressure like a ripe grape against a knife. His eyes bulged unnaturally as his skull gave way to metal. Blood showered her like a flurry of poppy petals as she came down on him. Edelgard panted as she yanked her axe free from his skull, sending more blood dripping. 

“Edelgard?” Petra coughed, holding her side. Rubies fell from between her fingers, collecting on the grown in a shining pool. Her usually bright brown eyes had grown dull. 

“Are you okay?” Edelgard asked. 

“No worrying… I fight hard.” Her reassurance fell short as pain flashed across her face. 

Then, in a shine of white light, Petra’s wound glowed. Edelgard sighed with relief as Lindhardt arrived. Heal saved Petra, and she rose to her feet with a smile. “I appreciate you!” 

Lindhardt nearly vomited at the sight of the bandit Edelgard just defeated, his cheeks turning green. “Ahh—don’t mention it.” 

”Excellent timing, Lindhardt,” Edelgard praised. 

“Lady Edelgard, you’ve been hit too. Shall I?” He gestured to the wound on her shoulder.

Once he mentioned it, Edelgard remembered it was there. She became cognizant of the warm blood trickling down her arm and shivered. The way the wound sliced her felt all too familiar… 

“There’s no time,” Edelgard hissed as the sound of hurried footsteps and shouts came from ahead. “Come on, Petra. We must keep moving.” 

Together, she ran across the bridge with Petra. Lindhardt was not too far behind. Ahead, a row of bandits blocked their crossing. From their ranks, two arrows were volleyed. 

“Look out!” Edelgard shouted. 

“Bastard—Arrgh!” Hubert’s pained howl echoed from the bridge as one of the arrows buried into his shoulder. His eye widened with rage as he ripped the arrow out of his flesh and tossed it aside. “You will pay for that.” 

From his hands, darkness swirled, thick like ink it dripped from his fingertips. The eerie Miasma was cast with a chuckle, snaking through the air to swarm the bowman. His bloodcurdling scream was strangled by the dark magic. He did not get a chance to retaliate before Ferdinand drove a spear through his heart. 

Edelgard ran to support Ferdinand as the bandits began their attack. She careened her axe into the side of one of them with a chilling crack. She was able to dodge the onslaught of the opposing bandit’s axe, but only barely. With a hiss, she struck again, this time burying her axe into his neck. The impact nearly sent his head flying, but stubborn tendons forced it to loll grotesquely to one side as he fell to his knees.

Ferdinand was not so lucky with his strikes. A sword-wielding thief sloppily slashed at him, managing to cut across his thigh. “Filthy brat!” the bandit snarled. 

“How rude.” Ferdinand chuckled. 

Thunder crashed from behind and finished the bandit off. Dorothea ran up to meet them. “Is everyone okay?” She was panting erratically. 

“It’s like Professor said: we may be outnumbered, but they’re outranked,” Ferdinand said, running his hands through his ginger hair, slicking it back with sweat. 

Hubert made easy victims of the remaining bandits for Petra. Just as the dark magic faded, she finished them with the slash of her sword. Edelgard felt soothed as healing magic mended her shoulder. Lindhardt was among them again, surveying the carnage with open disgust. Once the last bandit fell to Petra’s blade, the Black Eagles convened at the end of the vast bridge. 

“Was that all of them?” Dorothea wondered. 

“Hopefully,” said Lindhardt. 

“We have the victory?” Petra was eager to ask. 

Edelgard shook her head. “No, we still have to find their leader and meet our Professor.”

The other side of the bridge was vacant. Nothing but wisps of fog rolled over hastily-constructed tents and smoking campfires. It seemed the bandits left their posts to meet them at the bridge, and not one of them survived. The blood on Edelgard’s axe dried, giving it a rusty look, as she carried it through the once-lively bandit camp. Sunlight had yet to pierce the overcast sky. She had no way of knowing what time it was. They could’ve been fighting for hours, days, moons, she wouldn’t know. 

“Let’s keep looking,” Edelgard urged them. “Stick together.” 

Silence stretched between the students as they proceeded along the recesses of the Red Canyon. In their search, they happened upon a collection of marble pillars that held the color of bones left to bleach in the sun. Even from a distance, Edelgard could see the shadow of a man within the forgotten shrine. Between the pillars, Edelgard froze at the sight of a familiar hulking figure. 

“Kostas,” she whispered. 

“What?! He’s here?” Dorothea gasped. “We must wait. The Professor should be here soon to help us.” 

Edelgard scanned the perimeter, but saw no hide nor hair of the other half of their battle party. This was her chance. 

“We can’t wait for Professor to arrive,” she decided sternly. “If we do, we give Kostas the chance to escape and lose the element of surprise. There is nowhere for us to hide out here.”

“But I’ve used up all my magic,” Dorothea confessed. 

“And we were specifically told to wait here before we confront Kostas,” Ferdinand added in a clipped tone. “We know you’re strong, Edelgard. You don’t need to do this.”

“I’m not doing this to prove anything,” Edelgard snapped. “I’m doing this because it needs to get done. We can’t rely on the Professor for everything. Who knows how many bandits she encountered on their side?” 

“Lady Edelgard is right. This is our chance to defeat him. We must take it before it’s too late,” Hubert said, standing by her side. 

“Hubert and I will attack him. You four stay back here to rendezvous with the Professor and keep look out for any straggling bandits,” Edelgard ordered. 

“Be careful, Edie,” Dorothea pleaded, brows furrowed with concern. 

“I can handle this. He’s just a bandit.” Edelgard smiled and then left her classmates as she ran for Kostas.

The adrenaline still surged through her veins, warming her blood. Her axe swaggered by her side as she carried it to meet Kostas. Hubert’s muted footsteps scarcely echoed her own as he shadowed her. Her boots slid against the stones that gathered at their feet as she stepped up the ancient steps of the abandoned shrine. 

“Hubert,” she muttered. “Stay back here until I give word for you to strike.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.” 

Alone, Edelgard proceeded up the steps. Once she stood on the pale platform that once paid homage to a forgotten god, she saw him. Kostas was pacing like an animal trapped in a cage. His bulging muscles pulsated with his rushing heart. His eyes rolled, and upon seeing Edelgard, he bared his rotten teeth in a grimace.

“The Church sends a child to kill me?” Spit rained from his lips as he laughed. “Or are you just their sacrificial lamb?”

Edelgard swung her axe up so she held it in both her hands. “This is the end, Kostas.” Her words dripped from her tongue with venom. 

“You’re right.” He laughed. “The end for you!” He too drew out a heavy axe with a steel head molded by the blood of dozens of victims. 

Crying out wildly, Kostas lunged for her. The swing of his axe carried a power she had yet to face. He was merely a bandit; no Crest nor magic coursed through his veins. Where was this strength coming from? 

Edelgard jumped to dodge his attack. The axe clattered with the ancient earth, drawing fissures across its surface. Stones and dust churned up from the impact to rain onto the ground with vengeful clamor. Kostas was laughing and shouting wildly, his words unintelligible. 

“What’s wrong, Missy? You scared?”

His taunts fell on deaf ears as she caught his blow with the head of her axe, deflecting it, but only barely. Now that she was closer to him, she saw a wildness in his eyes she had only seen once, in the dark of a dungeon she longed to push from her memory. 

“Bastard,” she cursed, tossing her axe back and bringing it down again. 

Kostas shrieked manically as the tip of the axe caught his broad shoulder and dragged down the length of his arm. “You bitch!” 

His axe came for her, and Edelgard cried out in pain as the metal grazed her leg; it cut just deep enough for blood to spurt from it before she sprang backward. As she landed on her wounded leg, she winced. Kostas gave her no time to recover before he was charging again. Axe raised, he meant to bring it down on her head, but she lunged to meet him; her speed surpassed his own, and she dug her axe into his other shoulder. 

Kostas roared in pain as the blood loss letted his body. “I’ll kill you!” he bellowed. 

Edelgard ran to put distance between them. Before she could make her escape, a shocked cry grappled her throat. To her horror, Kostas’s massive hand grabbed the ankle of her wounded leg. The shock of his touch made her drop her axe, and it clattered pitifully to the ground without its master. His fingers overlapped as he held her back, as if her leg was nothing more than a twig he happened to pick up. With a cruel laugh, he dragged her back. Edelgard scrabbled at the ground furiously, but every stone she reached for surrendered and rolled with her. Her nails screamed as grit and sharp stones buried beneath them.

She turned to see the gleam of his axe raised above her. For a moment, Edelgard thought this was the end, but then she realized the real war that waited for her ahead. She couldn’t allow it to go unwaged, not when the future of Fodlan was at stake. Hissing, she squirmed backward, grabbing the wooden handle of her axe. Kostas, so eager to deal his final blow, was blind to her armament. 

“Die, you stupid brat! Die!” Wild laughter escaped him as he brought the axe down. 

_ Snap! _

Edgelgard brought her axe to her defense, shielding herself against the strike. But her axe was tired. Its handle severed under the pressure, splitting into two pieces as it took the blow. Edelgard’s jaw dropped as the head of her axe fell uselessly to her side with a thud. 

Kostas watched her axe break with a twisted smile. Wordlessly, he rose his axe again. 

“Hubert!” Edelgard cried, scrabbling away from the madman. “Hubert, now!” 

No magic came from below the steps. Edelgard felt her heart beat in her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut. This was it. She messed up again. She was alone. 

“Gaaaargh!” Kostas’s bellow shook the pillars around them. 

Edelgard opened her eyes to see a familiar blade wedged into Kostas’s back. From over his hunkered shoulders, she saw pale blue eyes glowing with rage. 

“Professor?!” 

Byleth pulled her blade free from Kostas’s back, allowing him to leap back out of the way. Edelgard was speechless as Byleth ran to her and offered her hand. She took it and was brought to her feet again. 

“Never corner a man that’s got nothing to lose.” Her words, though cold, shook as they left her. Byleth was looking her over fervently. “Are you wounded?” she whispered. 

“He got my leg, but otherwise, I’m fine.” 

A sigh of relief escaped Byleth. “That’s all that matters.”

Edelgard lowered her eyes. Of all people, it was Byleth that saved her again. She felt her heart sink _.  _

“Aw, what’s this? A rescue?” Kostas spat. “How cute.” 

Blood trickled from his wounds in dark streams. The fur cloaking his body was matted with red, and he ripped free of it with a growl. Beneath, numerous cords of muscles were bundled together. With every step, they rippled. His axe dripped still with Edelgard’s blood. 

Edelgard watched as Byleth and Kostas charged at each other. The look on Byleth’s face was more terrifying than Kostas’s. Her serene but stony features never faltered, even as the axe came down on her. She reminded Edelgard of the stone murals depicting gods and goddesses enraptured in war; their faces, even in the heat of combat, were smooth and beautiful, as if they never thought to fear death. With a flash of silver, her sword laced through the air, biting at Kostas’s exposed skin. The wounds the sword left were shallow, unlike the trauma caused by Edelgard’s axe. However, she saw Kostas begin to tire as Byleth danced around him. The effort of every blow he dealt taxed him greater than the slip of a sword. 

In the middle of their duel, Edelgard felt Kostas’s eyes slide to meet hers. Her blood ran cold. It happened so quickly. As Byleth lunged for him, Kostas kicked dirt and flint up with the back of his axe. It slapped Byleth’s face, blinding her. He buried his elbow into her sternum, knocking her backward. Edelgard watched as Byleth’s sword twisted out of her reach. 

“No!” she cried. 

Edelgard ran for the sword, taking it by the hilt. As she went to return it to Byleth, she heard a deafening smack. Edelgard watched as the axe was buried into Byleth’s side. Her armor took the impact, but the sight of blood trickling down Byleth’s exposed navel made Edelgard’s stomach churn. 

“Professor!” Edelgard was carried by the wind as she ran to Byleth. 

Kostas’s hideous laugh reverberated off the marble pillars. He noticed Edelgard returning to the fight and sneered. He swung his axe, and Edelgard ducked out of reach effortlessly. Without the weight of her axe, she could move freely around Kostas. She harkened back to the Training Grounds as she gripped the sword. 

Edelgard spun out of the way of another attack. As Kostas brought the axe down to hit the rocks, she lunged, cutting deep into his flank. Balancing the weight of her blow, she skipped backward just as Kostas swung at her again. This time, Edelgard went for the kill. With a shout, she lunged forward and stabbed the sword through his throat. Kostas spit blood from his mangled teeth, gurgling as he grappled meekly at the blade. Edelgard ripped it free from his hemorrhaging jugular with a hiss. Kostas fell at her feet. His dark blood soaked the pale marble of the shrine, seeping into the fresh fissures of their battle like rainwater. 

Edelgard gave the sword a flick as she watched the leader of the bandits greet Death. When she was certain he was gone, she hurried back to Byleth. 

“Professor!” Edelgard cared not for the ache in her wounded leg as she slid down to meet her. 

Byleth was panting, holding her side. One of her eyes was shut as she braced the pain. “Edelgard,” she murmured. “You fought beautifully.”

“Just stop,” Edelgard whispered, shaking her head. “I should’ve listened to you. This is my fault.” 

“I’ll be fine,” she assured her, hissing through gritted teeth as she stood. She was shaking on her legs. “This is nothing.”

“You’re lying.” Edelgard watched blood collect at Byleth’s palm. “You’re bleeding…”

Rivers of red snaked down Byleth’s exposed stomach. It ran down her leg, soaking the black floral lace that masked her pale skin. Edelgard felt her lips tremble as she watched Byleth struggle to make it down the steps. 

Edelgard went to Byleth and held her up. Her arm wrapped around her side to support her. It was strange, holding her. Her arm wrapped so effortlessly around the curve of her body, Edelgard was reminded that she was a human, a woman, not too much older than herself. She could feel Byleth’s blood soak her side, and it brought a lump to her throat. “I’ve got you,” she murmured to her. 

Byleth said nothing. Her eyes were shut. 

“Professor? Professor!” 


	4. Path of Least Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard visits Byleth in the infirmary after the battle at the Red Canyon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please be advised: this chapter contains brief nudity**

Even with the pale curtains drawn, the bright sunlight of midday peered through to glow in the infirmary. Outside, in the warmth of the sun, congregations of students, priests, and knights shuffled through their day, unaware of the ill-fated woman within the walls. Their voices reached through the window, muffled by glass. Birds gathered on the windowsill, chirping and tapping at the ancient stones that carved out the view. Edelgard appreciated the noise, for silence would be maddening in the infirmary. 

As she pushed through the heavy wooden door, she was greeted by no one. The room reeked of incense and perfume, both of which failed to douse the even more offensive rancor of tonics and alcohol. The infirmary was filled with the constant ticking of a grandfather clock, encouraging Edelgard’s cautious gait with its metronome. With every tick and tock, she stepped deeper into the room. For an infirmary, it lacked sterility. Ornate draperies and carpets colored with expensive dyes embellished the walls and floors in shades of blue and purple. Several books adorned rustic cherry wood shelves, but their binds still retained their sheen, as if they were never opened or read. 

Edelgard was no longer looking at the unused library, however, for within the infirmary, on one of the two beds, was Byleth. A single nightstand separated the vacant bed from Byleth’s, and on it was a mountain of gifts. A milk glass vase held a bouquet of ornate blossoms, a stuffed pink unicorn leaned against it with a blank expression, and dozens of sweet confectioneries and letters crowded the surface. Edelgard regarded the treasure trove of gifts with a sigh and tucked away her meager card, crestfallen. She came to Byleth, wide-eyed, and found her in a deep sleep. A single white sheet was draped over her body, lending her a flattering silhouette. Her face was pale as porcelain and held a peacefulness only death could achieve. Her teal hair was layered around her face frivolously, but it only added to her beauty. 

A single chair at Byleth’s bedside invited Edelgard to sit. She obliged, settling quietly beside the Professor with a frown. “Professor?” 

There was no response. 

Edelgard stared at her gloved hands as she folded them on her lap. Her stillness allowed guilt to sink in. Byleth would not be in the infirmary if not for her. Edelgard successfully killed Kostas on the day of their mission, but it was at Byleth’s expense. Had she not been there to defend and support Edelgard, it would’ve been her in the infirmary, or worse, the grave. 

“It seems I am indebted to you once more,” Edelgard said, smiling sadly as she gazed at her sleeping face. 

Byleth didn’t stir. 

It was only the day after the battle with the bandits. Edelgard could still feel the sting of the wound on her leg. She could still smell the stench of fresh blood in the air and hear the screams of the slain bandits. It was a terrifying but wonderful and victorious taste of battle. And it was Byleth that led them to that victory. 

“I should’ve listened to you…” Edelgard murmured. 

She noticed a strand of hair had fallen across Byleth’s cheek. She carefully moved to brush it back, noting that her skin was cool to the touch. Without the coldness of her blue eyes, or the stoicism in her face, she looked young. There was no way she was more than a year older than Edelgard. She remembered how small Byleth felt in her arms as she helped her down the steps of the ancient shrine where Kostas had his last stand. She was a far cry from the Ashen Demon she had first met. 

Lost in her thoughts, she failed to realize her thumb was stroking Byleth’s cheek until a bout of laughter from the hallway passed them by. Edelgard yanked her hand away, blushing. Footsteps and voices followed, but no one entered the infirmary. Edelgard sighed, still blushing. 

“You’re so cold,” she said. Her face darkened. “Are you…?”

Panic quickened her heart. Byleth was cold to the touch, unmoving, and unresponsive. Edelgard jumped out of her seat, sending it falling to the side with a loud rattle. She hurriedly pressed her fingers against Byleth’s neck, trying to find a pulse. 

There was none. 

“No, no, no… This can’t be happening!” Edelgard’s chest tightened with fear. She looked around wildly, but found nothing and no one that could help her. “Professor!” she cried. “No, this can’t be happening.”

Edelgard put her head to Byleth’s chest, feeling her body begin to shiver. No heartbeat answered her touch. “I—I killed you. This is all my fault!” She buried her face into Byleth’s chest, curling her fingers into the sheets. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, my, my, my.” A familiar cooing voice carried across the room from the doorway. “I’ll have you know, I do not tolerate necking in the infirmary unless it’s with me.”

Professor Manuela strutted across the room. Her pale robe scarcely disguised her curvaceous frame. Her body hugged every inch of her fitted green dress, and it moved provocatively with every step. Edelgard looked up from Byleth, face red with a painful concoction of embarrassment, anger, and sadness. 

“Professor Manuela, where have you been?” she demanded. “Professor, she’s—“

“In recovery,” Manuela finished matter-of-factly. “And she’ll be in recovery for moons to come if she is constantly getting visits from her students. Shouldn’t you all be in class?”

“We’re on lunch break—ah! It doesn’t matter! It’s Professor! She’s—“

“Trying to get some sleep, yes, I can see that.” Manuela waved her hand dismissively. She came to stand on the other side of the bed, bringing the back of her palm to Byleth’s forehead. “Mhm. Good temperature.”

“But her heart! It’s not beating!” 

“Oh, pish posh, Miss Edelgard! Professor Byleth is as healthy as a horse.” She sat a package on the nightstand, shoving some of the chocolates and prettily wrapped taffy to the floor. It smelled of food from the Dining Hall.

Edelgard brought her hands to her face, sitting uselessly on the bedside as frustration consumed her. How could the Professor eat when she was dead? 

“Edelgard?” Byleth mumbled tiredly. 

Edelgard could not turn her head fast enough to look at her. “Professor!” She sighed with relief. “You’re alive!”

Byleth looked at her quizzically through heavily-lidded eyes. She was rubbing her head and running her fingers through her tousled hair as she slowly rejoined the waking world.

“Yes, I’ve already told you that. All it takes is some good-smelling food, and our dear Professor will come back from the dead!” Professor Manuela laughed at her own joke. With a playful smile on her face, she leaned in and pinched Byleth’s cheek. “I’d never let such a cutie die on my watch… Though you did bring her to me in a less than ideal condition.”

Edelgard glanced away at that, frowning. “On behalf of the House of Black Eagle, I thank you, Professor Manuela,” she said formally. “If there’s anything I can do to repay you—“

“Tut-tut, I’m just doing my duty, sweetheart. There’s no need for formalities under my roof.” Manuela chuckled, then reached into her robe to retrieve a large spool of cloth bandages. “But, if you really want to make it up to me, you can help me change out these bandages.”

Edelgard rose from the bed. “Of course!”

She could feel Byleth staring as she stood and felt color return to her cheeks. She wasn’t dead. Good. But then, why was her heart not beating? Edelgard shyly met Byleth’s gaze, expecting to see emptiness. Instead, she found something softer in those blue depths. Her heart skipped a beat. 

“Okay, let's get you on your feet, Professor.” Manuela peeled back the white sheet from Byleth’s body, letting it bundle at the foot of the bed.

Edelgard thought her heart stopped beating, next. As Byleth stood, putting the fuzzy hospital slippers on, Edelgard was able to take her in. The curves of her body were carved to perfection as if she was made of marble rather than flesh. The planes of her muscles caught the shadows of the dim lighting, drawing extra attention to her abdomen and arms. Her forearms, which were normally concealed by armor, held scars from combat. Her legs, usually hidden by dark lace, were instead laced with the same battle scars that covered her arms. Only her thin, black shorts remained from her usual attire, and they scarcely concealed her pelvic region; her lower abdominals trailed down into her shorts, devilishly drawing Edelgard’s eyes lower. Now that Edelgard knew what rested beneath the clothes and armor, she understood how easily she was able to knock grown men to the ground. 

“Miss Edelgard?” Professor Manuela beckoned. 

Her eyes found the bandages, and she felt a lump form in her throat. The cloth wrapped around her chest down to just above her navel, binding her tight. Across Byleth’s right side, the bandages were stained dark red. It was the wound she received when she protected her, and it looked as angry as the man that gave it to her. 

Byleth winced as she walked away from her cot to stand between them. 

“Miss Edelgard?” Professor Manuela asked again, with greater emphasis and less patience.

“Oh, y-yes, Professor Manuela?” Edelgard replied, feeling sheepish to be caught staring. 

“Fetch the golden bowl from my desk, please. I will be using it to discard her bandages.”

Edelgard nodded, but she forgot how to walk once Manuela began stripping Byleth of her binds. Her breath caught in her throat as the unfurled bandages exposed the beginnings of her wound. It was a deep, angry red gash that swelled against her skin. Shame flooded Edelgard as she turned away to retrieve the bowl. She refused to look up from it as she carried it back to Professor Manuela; within the bowl, sprigs of rosemary and bundles of sage collected on a bed of powdery ash.

“Where should I set it?” she asked as she stood beside Professor Manuela. 

“Just wait here, dear,” she said. Her eyes were focused on Byleth’s ribs as she carefully undid the old bandages that wrapped around her. 

Edelgard watched too, impressed by her dexterity. Even with liquor on her breath, Professor Manuela was able to expertly free Byleth from the bandages. Only a soft hiss from Byleth alerted Edelgard as one layer of white clung to her wound. Dried blood peppered the bandage that Manuela handed to Edelgard. She put it gently into the depths of the bowl. Where there was no gash, there was heavy bruising. The armor Byleth wore seemed to save her ribcage from the worst of the blow; nothing but a purplish blotch remembered Kostas’s attack. 

Edelgard nearly dropped the bowl she was holding when she realized that Byleth’s chest was completely exposed. Professor Manuela successfully removed every last wrapping. Not one strip of cloth was left to hide her chest from them. Edelgard couldn’t pry her eyes away. Her breasts looked so soft in comparison to the rest of her battle-hardened body. Edelgard’s fingers twitched at the lip of the bowl. She never looked at Byleth like a woman before; she only saw her as a demon, a mercenary, or a teacher. But as Byleth turned to allow Professor Manuela to bring her healing hands up to her wound, she was reminded of her femininity, and it was breathtaking. The profile of her perfectly round breasts was enough to make it hard for Edelgard to swallow. 

Byleth must have felt her staring; her eyes slowly rose to gaze at her with a curious innocence. As if she didn’t know what the sight of her topless body was doing to her. 

Edelgard’s face darkened with a blush as she forced herself to look away. 

“Miss Edelgard, sweetheart, could you…” Professor Manuela paused, likely noticing Edelgard’s blush. “What’s the matter?”

“I just feel like I’m invading my teacher’s privacy, is all,” Edelgard explained, flustered. She thought there was a fireplace lit as the entire infirmary seemed to be aflame, but she realized it was just her body.

“Don’t be silly, dear! We’re in a hospital for goodness sake; this is natural.” Professor Manuela laughed softly. “Besides, I doubt our dear Byleth minds. Do you, hon’?”

Edelgard locked eyes with Byleth again and thought her knees would buckle. In the odd light of the healing magic working on her wound, her eyes looked… warm. “I don’t mind,” she murmured. “Thank you for helping.”

“Of course,” Edelgard whispered, tearing her eyes away as she felt her heart burst from her chest. 

“See?” Professor Manuela gestured to the nightstand. “Now, if you could get me the fresh bandages, I’ll be done with her and on my way.” 

Edelgard sat the bowl on the nightstand, taking the fresh bandages with a short sigh. She felt weirdly warm in her stomach. Her chest felt light after her heart leapt out of it to run free. The commotion of new, strange feelings only became more erratic as she returned to Byleth and Manuela. “Here.”

“Thank you!” Professor Manuela sang. She hummed softly as she quickly wrapped Byleth’s body back up. 

Her magic seemed to be working, for the once angry gash narrowed into a slice. Though the redness remained, the bruising waned from purple to yellow. Blood clotted in the deepest of the cut as it healed, but a new scar was a promise. 

“Aha! Perfect. I tell you, no one does it as good as me,” Professor Manuela purred. She spun around on her heels, flicking an ember at the golden bowl with a snap of her fingers. Her hips rocked suggestively as she sauntered across the infirmary. “If you need anything, don’t call me! It’s Hanneman’s turn.” She yanked open the door so eagerly, Edelgard thought she would rip it from its hinges. “I got a date tonight, and he is a—what do you kids call it again? Oh, he’s a ‘stud muffin.’ So don’t bother me. Ta-ta!” 

With a slam, Professor Manuela was gone. The click of her footsteps echoed down the hall until there was no noise but the ticking clock again. 

Edelgard was afraid to look at Byleth as she righted the wooden chair she knocked over earlier. Her palms felt clammy as she straightened the chair on its legs, twisting and tugging it, knowing no matter how much she adjusted it, it would never be right. She was just too embarrassed to sit down again. 

“What are you doing?” Byleth asked. 

“Nothing!” She took a seat promptly. Edelgard wove her fingers together in her lap as she sat, sighing. 

Byleth moved to pull the sheet back over her, but winced. Edelgard noticed her struggle and stood, bringing the cover back over her. It was a brief gesture, but Edelgard felt her hand tremble. Her eyes met Byleth’s as she sat back down. 

“What’s wrong, Edelgard?”

Edelgard fiddled with her fingers, squirming as heat crawled up her neck. The flames of the burning bandages and herbs filled the room with a white smoke that absorbed what little sunlight was allowed through the curtains. It was as suffocating as it was relaxing; the stench of rubbing alcohol and blood was strangled by the fresh incense. 

“Nothing, Professor,” Edelgard assured her, smiling. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“I think you did that.”

Edelgard blushed. So she did catch her staring! “Joking? After I nearly got you killed?” She glared at her gloved palms, remembering the feeling of wielding Byleth’s sword as she frantically tried to save their lives.

“But you didn’t get me killed. I’m still here.” Byleth was staring at the ceiling as she spoke. Her hands were resting on her stomach, and they rose and fell calmly with every breath. 

“That’s not the point!” Edelgard snapped. 

Byleth rolled her eyes to stare at her, frowning. “I told you that you never enter the battlefield alone. You can’t get upset at me for doing what I can to keep you and the rest of the students safe.”

“Professor…” Edelgard buried her face in her hands. “I’m not upset at you. If anything, I was really glad you were there. I just—I never needed to rely on anyone. I don’t want to start now.”

“Why not?” 

Edelgard looked up, surprised to see Byleth propping herself up on her elbow so she could better look at her on her side. “The path I walk,” she began, her voice hoarse. “Is a difficult one. I am more than a student, I am heir to the Imperial throne. There will come a day when I will make decisions on behalf of thousands… and those decisions may be hurtful, but I know they will be for the benefit of the Empire and all of Fodlan.” Edelgard held Byleth’s gaze. “I fear if I don’t walk it alone, the ones I bring with me will drown in the wake of the choices I make.”

“Jeralt once told me that no one can choose the path we take, that it’s a decision we make for ourselves,” Byleth murmured. Her blue eyes were more intense in the warm lighting of the fire behind her. “In the end, where we choose to walk, and who we choose to walk with, is up to us.” Her brows furrowed as her tired voice gained some of its sharpness back. “So, if I choose to walk with you and stay by your side, that’s my choice. You can’t take that away from me.” 

Edelgard could only stare. Byleth wanted to be by her side, but why? Would she still choose to walk beside her if she knew the truth? The full, ugly truth? “I’m sorry,” she mumbled softly. 

“I don’t want another apology, Edelgard.” Byleth laid down on her back once more. A sigh escaped her lips as she brought her fingers to rub her forehead. “I just want you to learn that it’s okay to trust me… Trust me, at least when we are on the field, for your sake, and mine, and for the rest of the students. You need to listen.” 

Edelgard nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered. 

A storm of emotion clouded Byleth’s face. She could see torment and pain in her eyes. Her face, once soft and peaceful in her sleep, was now hardened with a mask that hid her true feelings. Edelgard knew that this was not what she imagined doing with her life. She probably wanted to be back in Remire Village with her father and the mercenaries drinking dark beer, and telling war stories, and sleeping under the stars. This was as much of an adjustment for her as it was for everyone, perhaps more so. 

“Thank you,” Edelgard said softly. 

Byleth glanced at her. “For what?”

“For… everything. You’ve taught me, taught everyone, so much, you’ve led us to battle, to victory, and you saved me… twice. I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“Just because I’m a mercenary doesn’t mean I want repayment for everything I do,” she said flatly. 

“Oh, no, of course! I didn’t mean—“

“I was kidding…” Byleth yawned lazily. It seemed the aroma wafting off the flames lulled her. She watched as sleep kissed at her eyelids, making them droop.

Edelgard smiled. “Joking again…”

A soft murmur escaped Byleth’s lips as she returned to a deep slumber. Her face regained peacefulness, its coldness melting to the flames that flickered by her bedside. Edelgard watched her sleep, feeling her heart grow in her chest at the sight of her. If she allowed herself to trust Byleth, she knew she would never be able to take that trust back; she would give it to her completely and willingly. When the time came for that trust to be tested, she wondered if Byleth would still walk beside her. She wondered why anyone would want to walk her path with her. Hubert did, but it was out of servitude… perhaps more, but it began as servitude nonetheless. 

Byleth had no obligation to her in that way. She was a professor; all she needed to do was make sure they passed their exams and didn’t die on the field. Anything more than that was… earnest. Edelgard brushed the hair away from Byleth’s face once more, sighing. An unfamiliar tug pulled at her heartstrings, playing a tune that she never knew existed. She had the strong desire in her mind, and her body, to get closer to Byleth. Yet, a barrier remained between them. If Edelgard opened her heart to Byleth, would she do the same? Did she even have a heart to share?

The loud clanging of the cathedral’s bells interrupted Edelgard’s longing. She stood as the gonging beckoned for her to return to class. Her studies and classmates awaited, but she wanted nothing more than to stay sitting by Byleth’s side. Edelgard leaned over the bed, pulling the unopened card meant for Byleth out from her chest pocket. With a sigh, she dropped it into the hungry flames. 

“I look forward to your return, Professor.”


	5. Beware the Certification Exam!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard enters class to find a cryptic message on the chalkboard and mysterious roles of parchment on the desks... could it be...?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a “fluff” chapter with nothing super plot-heavy. It explores the exam process that was never fully developed in canon. Enjoy!
> 
> **DISCLAIMER** the classes being “tested” by the Black Eagles are in no way meant to be game advice. I just went with what was most obvious.

“No, it can’t be!” 

Caspar’s cry of terror greeted Edelgard as she entered the Black Eagles classroom. She yawned as she stepped in to see what the cause could be. Her classmates congregated at the chalkboard that stood beside Professor Byleth’s desk. 

In blocky letters, the cause for Caspar’s woe became clear: 

BEGINNERS CERTIFICATION EXAM, 0900 

DO NOT BREAK THE SEAL ON THE PARCHMENT UNTIL A PROFESSOR IS PRESENT. 

Edelgard stared at their desks, and sure enough, thick rolls of parchment waited for them, bound together by a single scarlet seal that bore the Omega symbol. The Beginners Certification Exam would be today! 

“Well, that explains all the homework Professor has been assigning us while she's been in recovery,” Lindhardt said. 

“Aw, this blows! How could she do this to us?” Caspar buried his face in his hands with a grumble.

“Yes, how could she,” Lindhardt agreed dryly. “A professor that assigns homework and administers exams to students? Preposterous.”

“You know what I mean!” Caspar snapped. “Professor has been gone since the Red Canyon battle… and no one teaches like she can!”

Caspar wasn’t wrong. Edelgard was not impressed with the teachings of Professor Hanneman or Professor Manuela. All Professor Hanneman seemed to care about was the study of Crests, leaving several other subjects neglected. Professor Manuela, while incredibly sharp, seemed to make up her lessons on the fly; not even the most astute student could properly prepare for her lectures. 

“Sir Alois seemed to know his stuff whenever he had to stand in,” Lindhardt offered.

“Ugh! All he talked about was his old war stories. You just liked him because you were able to sneak in naps whenever he broke off on a tangent,” Caspar retorted. 

Lindhardt smiled. “Ah, yes. Those were good days.”

“If I got goldpiece every time Sir Alois mentioned working with Sir Jeralt in the past, I would be the richest woman in Fodlan,” Dorothea added. 

“Regardless,” Edelgard interrupted pointedly. “Professor gave us plenty of thorough notes for the homework and lessons we should have gone over. If you all went over them like you were supposed to, you should be more than prepared for today.”

“You all knew this day would come,” Hubert added. “If you failed to prepare for it, you have no one to blame but yourself.” 

“This sucks! Absolute garbage!” Caspar raged. 

“I—I’m gonna fail!” Bernadetta whined, pulling her hood over her head to shield her eyes. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll be looking pretty good when I am one of the few to pass,” Ferdinand purred, smirking. His amber eyes found Edelgard. “You best watch out, House Leader. Ferdinand von Aegir is about to be top of the class!”

“And you best watch how you speak to Her Highness,” Hubert growled. 

Edelgard turned her nose up at Ferdinand. “Everything is always a competition with you, hm? It’s curious, really, that someone so prone to failure speaks so highly of themselves.”

Ferdinand laughed as the flames of their rivalry rekindled. “Oh, my dearest Edelgard, if only you could see how much your nose is growing right now.”

“Lady Edelgard has no nose growth,” Petra observed in confusion, stepping to get a better look at her. “Maybe it is glasses you need, Ferdinand?”

Dorothea laughed. “Petra, you’re so silly!”

“I will not be amusing when I certify!” Petra warned. 

“No, no, it’s a good thing to make people laugh,” Dorothea assured her. 

A blush found its way on Petra’s face. “Oh… This is good.” She smiled.

Edelgard was too busy glaring daggers at Ferdinand to notice the sound of boots cracking down the classroom floor. It wasn’t until she heard Bernadetta cry out that she knew who joined them.

“Professor!” Bernadetta squeaked. “You’re back!”

“Finally!” Caspar roared. 

The students swarmed Byleth, talking excitedly and welcoming her with hugs and handshakes. Edelgard smiled, taking a step towards her, but she was restrained by an invisible shackle. She turned, seeing Hubert glaring maliciously at Byleth. 

“So, the Ashen Demon returns,” Hubert said, his hands balled into fists. 

“Please, you mustn’t call her that,” Edelgard murmured. 

“And what better name is there, Lady Edelgard? What do we call a demon with no heart?”

Edelgard looked away. Of course she told Hubert of her discovery in the infirmary, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t regret her choice. She told Hubert almost everything, but never did she see him get so upset than when she told him about Byleth’s heartbeat, or lack thereof. He nearly rallied for her head on a pike. 

“We don’t know what she is, and I entreat you to  _ lower your voice _ ,” she hissed. The glare in her eyes held Hubert at bay. 

“Very well, Your Highness,” Hubert conceded. “It’ll be a discussion for a later time.”

Edelgard nodded her thanks to him before approaching Byleth. The students parted to allow their House Leader to welcome their professor back. “I’m glad you’re well enough to join us,” she said, smiling. “This class didn’t feel the same without you.”

Byleth nodded. “The only thing worse than being cooped in a classroom all day is being cooped up in an infirmary.” She gazed at each of her students. “I am grateful to all of you for the gifts and visits paid while I was in recovery. I like to think it helped me get better faster.”

“Of course, Professor! I don’t think I could get through this Academy without you,” Dorothea confessed, blushing. 

“D-did you like the unicorn doll?” Bernadetta asked shyly. 

“I loved it,” Byleth said. The word “love” sounded strange coming from her lips. She could have said the word “pencil” or “piece of paper” and it would’ve held the same meaninglessness. 

Despite the lack of emotion from Byleth, Bernadetta’s face was colored pink as she hid underneath the hood of her uniform again. 

“Glad you’re back, Teach. Before we begin, I—uh—got this for you.” Caspar chucked an apple at Byleth, flashing a toothy grin. “You know what they say! An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” 

Byleth caught the apple, quirking a brow at her student.

“I think that saying applies to illness, Caspar, not combat wounds.” Lindhardt shook his head, pinching his brows together. 

Byleth rubbed the apple on the sleeve of her overcoat. “Thank you, Caspar.” She admired the apple, brow still quirked as she gazed over it at her grinning student. “I hope you know this won’t give you any bonus points on the exam?”

“Oh—yeah! Right! I know that!” Caspar laughed nervously. 

The clock mounted on the wall behind Byleth’s desk rang out the half hour. The students stiffened at its unforgiving chime. 

“Seats, please,” Byleth ordered. 

The students scrambled to their desks. Edelgard took her seat at the front of the room with ease. Across from her, occupying the other row of desks was Petra and Dorothea. Behind her, she heard Ferdinand take his seat, humming arrogantly as if he was about to take a test on the alphabet and not an official weapon certification exam. 

“Edelgard, when this is over, how about I treat you to tea? I’m sure it’ll soothe your nerves after such a difficult day,” Ferdinand offered slyly. 

Edelgard would have felt safer if a rabid fox was sitting behind her. She gritted her teeth. “Thanks but no thanks, Ferdinand,” she declined curtly. 

“How about you invite me to tea?” Hubert suggested as he stood beside Ferdinand’s desk. His face was twisted with malice. “Granted, there won’t be much left after I dump it over that big head of yours.”

Ferdinand laughed. “It’s all in good fun, Hubert. Perhaps you should take your seat so we can begin?” 

Hubert looked like he wanted to flip Ferdinand’s desk, but with a locked jaw he stalked to the back of the classroom to take his seat. Across from him, sharing the back row, was Bernadetta. She was fidgeting in her seat, muttering under her breath as she stared at the rolled parchment in horror. 

Caspar and Lindhardt took their seats last. They shared a desk like Dorothea and Petra did. However, while Dorothea sat with Petra in order to help her better understand the oral lectures, Caspar sat with Lindhardt in order to antagonize him. 

Byleth walked between the desks once all the students were settled in. In her hands, a monstrous book with a thick leather bind sat. Edelgard watched as she flipped through the pages, brow furrowed. Once she passed Edelgard’s desk again, she saw the title:  _ Proctoring the Official Certification Exam, 16th ed. Vol 1. _

Once Byleth stood before her desk, she tossed the behemoth of a manual behind her so it slammed onto the wooden surface. Owl feather quills fell and ink bottles trembled in the wake of the abandoned book. 

“I’m not reading all that shit.” Edelgard heard Byleth’s mutter and could hardly stifle her giggle. 

Byleth faced the class again. “I know this last week I’ve been gone, but I believe with all my heart you all are ready for this. I wouldn’t put you through this exam if I wasn’t completely certain that everyone would pass.”

“No pressure…” Caspar grumbled.

“The exams before you will test your skills in Authority, Professional Conduct, Rules of Engagement, Weapons and Magic Upkeep, and the Combat Arts of your respective weapon of mastery.” Byleth walked between the desks as she talked. Her voice was sharper than the edge of a sword, but Edelgard found herself imagining the softer voice she had in the infirmary. 

As Byleth passed Edelgard, she watched her professor helplessly. The memory of her in nothing but shorts and bandages assaulted her focus. She lost all sense of self when Byleth turned to meet her gaze. She was caught staring again. 

“For your awareness, the parchment of this exam is enchanted,” Byleth went on. “Your names are already inscribed on the paper, and if anyone but you tries to write on it, the exam will become blank and count as a failure. Secondly, there is only one quill that can grade these papers…”

Byleth held up a single black plume. It was a raven feather quill. “I have no control of the grading quill aside from administering it. Once I set it on your exam, the grading will be done by it and it alone. I cannot force my hand to pass your exam even if I wanted to.” She nodded to each column of desks. “Remember your training. You all will do well.” 

At the top of the hour, the clock rang nine times. Edelgard gripped her quill tighter. Byleth allowed the clock to finish its chimes before she said, “Remove the Beginners Seal from your parchment.”

Edelgard touched the waxy scarlet seal, wrinkling the Omega symbol. As soon as she began to peel back, the seal vanished with a hiss and wisp of red smoke. The parchment unfurled like limp flower petals from a dying rose, unveiling scores upon scores of text. Her heart sank. 

“At the top of the exam, below your name, you should see the certification you’re testing for. I’ll read out your name and certification, and you reply either ‘yea’ or ‘nay,’ understood?” Byleth addressed the class coolly, though she had to notice the rising tension in the room as her students absorbed the dreaded text. 

The Black Eagles students nodded nervously. 

“Dorothea Arnault, Monk Exam,” Byleth began.

“Yea.”

“Petra Macneary, Myrmidon Exam.”

Petra raised her hand. “Yea!”

“Edelgard von Hresvelg, Fighter Exam.” 

Edelgard stiffened at the sound of her full name leaving Byleth’s lips. “Yea…” Her face turned pink when she heard the nervous rasp in her voice. 

Ferdinand chuckled behind her. 

“Lindhardt von Hevring, Monk Exam.”

Soft snoring sounded from Lindhardt’s seat. 

Byleth’s expression darkened, unamused. 

“Lindhardt von Hevring, Monk Exam,” she repeated tensely. 

Caspar tickled Lindhardt’s nose with the tip of his plume, causing him to sneeze. “Ah-choo—yeah?!”

Byleth moved on. “Caspar von Bergliez, Fighter Exam.” 

“Yea!”

“Ferdinand von Aegir, Soldier Exam.”

“The one and only—I mean, yea.” Ferdinand smiled as he spoke. His confidence dripped decadently from his words. 

“Hubert von Vestra, Monk Exam.”

“Yea,” Hubert grumbled. Edelgard heard a growl in his throat as he spoke to the professor. 

“Lastly, Bernadetta von Varley, Fighter Exam,” Byleth finished. 

“Y-Yea!” 

Byleth nodded, satisfied. She sat on her desk, crossing her legs as she gestured to her students. “Everyone has the correct test. You have four hours to complete the Beginners Certification Exam. When you finish, please remain at your desk.” She paused, holding her students’ breath hostage.

“You may begin.”

A rush of scribbling quills scratching against paper led the chorus of the exam. The ticking clock reminded them of the time that waned as they read and re-read the exam questions. Outside, Edelgard watched other students passing their classroom, laughing and chatting. Some were sitting in the grass on quilted blankets reading poetry or playing the lute. Envy welled inside of her. 

Edelgard stole a glance at her classmates. Caspar was chewing his fingernails down to the bloody nub while Lindhardt took a catnap. Petra’s face was wrinkled as her eyes searched the page again and again. Dorothea was twirling her hair nervously as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Please keep your eyes on your own exams,” Byleth said pointedly. 

Edelgard didn’t need to look at Byleth to know that she was talking to her. Brows furrowed, she read over her exam. The Authority portion was a breeze; she answered each question with confidence. Once she finished the page, the text faded into the paper and reemerged with new questions. She didn’t know the Authority portion ended until the exam told her so:

AUTHORITY: COMPLETE

_ Please proceed to the next section…  _

Edelgard shuffled through her papers and began the Professional Conduct section. A rattle at Byleth’s desk caught her attention. Her teacher was leaning back with her legs still crossed, her hands holding her weight as she kept them pressed to the desk. Edelgard gulped. Why couldn’t she get the sight of her half-naked body out of her head? She set her quill down and rubbed her temples. She should be more worried about the fact that her teacher had no heartbeat, but instead her mind strolled down the memories of the contour of her curves and the ripple of her muscles. 

“One hour has passed,” Byleth announced. “Three remain.”

Edelgard snatched her quill up again, hastily going over her exam. She needed to focus. There was no time to think about Byleth. She had to pass her exam! 

Question after question, section after section, Edelgard drilled through the exam. She never faltered despite encountering some cryptic verbiage and confusing dialogue. Though she was last to finish, she felt a wave of relief overcome her. By the time she returned her quill to its bottle, the clock sang. 

“That’s it. The Certification Exam is over.” Byleth stood, walking to collect the papers from her students. 

Her face was blank as she returned to her seat and looked over the sheets of paper. Only the slightest crease to her forehead betrayed her concern as the raven quill went to work. It hovered on its own, the tip of the plume reddening with scarlet ink. Papers flew as the quill brushed over each one, stacking into neat piles on Byleth’s desk. 

Edelgard watched the quill mercilessly score through the tests nervously. She never thought a simple exam would put her this close to the edge. She wondered why she suddenly cared so much about passing. Was it to prove Ferdinand wrong? She glanced back at him, seeing how he reclined cockily in his chair with his arms crossed. No, definitely not. Then, maybe, it was to impress Byleth? She watched her professor observing the quill with pensive blue eyes. Perhaps… 

Suddenly, the quill dropped and vanished in a burst of black smoke. The grading was complete. The exams, so neatly stacked to the side, also vanished into clouds of magic. Once the smoke cleared, a single scroll remained. Byleth took it and unrolled it. Her expression was unreadable.

“The House of Black Eagles…” She read. “Achieved a hundred-percent passing rate. Congratulations students of the Garreg Mach Officers Academy. You will receive your accreditation certificate and proper wear for your newly assigned combat class via Wyvern Express. The Board of Weapons Mastery welcomes you as official warriors of Fodlan. May you use your strength to defend the innocent and vanquish evil.”

As Byleth finished reading the scroll, the class erupted with cheer. Papers and quills went flying as Caspar jumped on the desk with a howl, nearly causing Lindhardt to fall out of his chair. 

Bernadetta’s eyes shone with emotion. “W-we passed!”

Ferdinand rose with a “hoorah,” tossing his fist in the air in triumph. 

Petra and Dorothea jumped up and hugged one another, bouncing and cheering in delight. 

Even Hubert, in the shadows of the back of the class, seemed to smile. 

Edelgard joined her classmates in the cheer as they came together in the center of the room to congratulate one another and dish out warm hugs and high-fives. For once, the shadow of her destiny did not hover. She was able to enjoy being nothing but a student, a student that passed her exam. 

Byleth was writing on her chalkboard as the students congregated in celebration. Once she finished, she went to join them. There was a light in her eyes that had not been there before. “I couldn’t be more proud of all of you,” she said. 

“We couldn’t have done so well without your guidance, Professor,” Ferdinand praised. 

“Yes! Thank you,” Dorothea agreed. 

Byleth nodded to each of them. “I do this for you all,” she said, unwilling or perhaps unable to share their enthusiasm. “If you wish to know your exact scores, they are posted on the chalkboard.” She raised her voice as she addressed the classroom. “You all are dismissed for the rest of the day. Enjoy your free time.”

“Th-thank you, Professor!” Bernadetta made a hasty retreat, not once glancing back at the scores. 

Edelgard looked beyond Byleth to the board. A smile crossed her face. Her name was at the top beside the mark, “100%.” She was followed by Petra with a “98%” and then Hubert with a “94%.”

“What?! I’m in fourth place?” Ferdinand’s shock was apparent as he read the glaring “92%” beside his name. “There has to be a mistake!”

“The quill doesn’t lie, Ferdie.” Dorothea laughed. “I’m just happy to have passed. Sixth place is good enough for me.” 

“Last?!” Caspar exclaimed, eyeing his score with wide eyes. “Aha! Who cares? Everyone knows I’m first on the battlefield.” Turning on his heel, he swaggered out of the classroom. “Come on, Lindhardt, let’s grab some grub.” 

Lindhardt bobbed his head lazily in agreement and followed his friend out to the courtyard. 

“Maybe I can treat  _ you _ to tea, then?” Edelgard asked Ferdinand, patting his shoulder encouragingly. Though he got under her skin, it still wounded her to see her classmate looking so dejected.

Ferdinand grinned at her offer. “You know, tea sounds rather good right now. Perhaps this evening? We can regale your studying techniques.”

“I look forward to it.” Edelgard smiled. 

“Shall we break for lunch?” Dorothea asked. “There’s only an hour left before our mealtime is over.”

“And Professor can join us?” Petra asked, staring at Byleth as she organized her desk. 

“Not today, I’m afraid,” Byleth said, shuffling through her papers. “I have some catching up to do.”

“Pity!” Ferdinand shook his head. “Maybe we will see you at dinner time?”

“Perhaps.” Byleth nodded to her students, taking a seat at her desk with a sigh. 

The remaining Black Eagles students gathered their belongings and slowly shuffled out of the class. Edelgard hesitated, watching them go. 

Hubert was shadowing the departing students until he noticed her absence. He turned back to her, head tilted. “Are you not accompanying us, Lady Edelgard?”

“I have a few questions for Professor,” she replied, giving Byleth a sideways glance. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“But—“

“Come on, Hubie!” Dorothea encouraged. She hooked her arm around his. “Edelgard doesn’t need you to chaperone her every second of the day.”

Dorothea lugged a squirming Hubert out of the room, giving Edelgard a wink. The door slammed behind them. 

“What do you need to ask me?” Byleth wondered from her desk. 

Edelgard looked at her, surprised to see her wearing red-framed glasses as she worried over a paperback book, which she wrote in occasionally. Byleth looked more studious and less rugged wearing them; it was an inviting in change. “You wear glasses?” 

“Only when I need to read.” Byleth glared over the rim of her them, frowning. “Is that what you needed to ask me?” 

“Oh, no…” Edelgard stood before her, fidgeting. “I…” 

Byleth continued to write until a sharp sigh escaped her. She sat back in her chair, shutting the book. “Is something wrong?” 

This was the first time they were alone since the day in the infirmary, but the longing she felt then remained. Edelgard realized, in horror, that she really had no plan for this conversation. She only wanted to talk to her. She had an idea of what to say, but she couldn’t say it without appearing suspicious. After all, how do you ask someone why they have no heart? 

“Nothing is wrong, per se,” she began cautiously. “I wanted to know… if you wanted anything from the Dining Hall?”

“The Dining Hall…” Byleth tapped the tip of her quill on the desk, her eyes glaring through the lens of her glasses. “I actually have a lot of work to do; I can’t eat when there are things to be done.”

“I see… anything I can help with?”

“No.”

“Professor,” Edelgard said urgently. “You always tell me to trust you and rely on you. I want you to know… that you can trust me and rely on me as well.” 

Byleth stared at her with a face as cold as ice. It made Edelgard wonder if she detected an ulterior motive. 

“I’m here for you as the House Leader. If there’s anything you need, or want, just say so.” 

Byleth stood suddenly, making Edelgard step back in surprise. “There is something I want,” she said. 

Edelgard gazed at her in confusion as she moved to stand before her. She was close enough to force Edelgard to realize that she stood a head taller than her. She had to tilt her head up to stare into Byleth’s eyes. “Professor?”

“I want to give you something.” Byleth spoke softly. Her eyes searched Edelgard, staring through her. 

“Give me something?” Edelgard felt her heart flutter eagerly. The idea of receiving something from Byleth made her feel warm. She was ensnared by Byleth’s eyes, and it was intoxicating. She could see through her, she had to. Edelgard felt vulnerable again. A demon without a heart had her in its clutches, and she wasn’t fighting. 

“Here.” Byleth revealed a single white glove from her pocket. The material glittered as it sat in her palm. 

Edelgard took it, surprised to see the familiar stitching she had grown to favor over the years. “This is…”

“A replacement… for the one I ruined when I told you I would be your teacher.”

“You didn’t ruin that, it was my fault—wait, how did you get this?” Edelgard asked. Her gloves were composed of only the finest threading; even a single glove cost more than a pretty penny. 

Byleth shrugged, avoiding Edelgard’s eyes. “I bought it.”

“Very funny… don’t think I don’t know how much this costs.” Edelgard squeezed her new glove in her palm, sighing. “I can’t accept this—“

“You just did. The minute it touched your hand, it was yours.” Byleth nodded, her brooding expression darkened. 

“But, Professor—“ 

“Please, do not protest. It was my fault I startled you.” Byleth returned to her seat with a sigh, opening her book again. 

Edelgard placed the glove in her pocket, frowning. No matter what she did, she always felt indebted to Byleth. She went back to her desk and began to gather her things, heart heavy. 

“Edelgard.” Byleth was peering over a stack of books. “Perhaps you  _ can _ bring me back something?”

“Anything in particular?” Edelgard asked, unable to hide her smile. 

“Yes, I’d like two peach sorbets, please.”

“Good choice.” Edelgard buckled her textbooks together, tightening the strap. “You want two?” 

“Only if you’ll join me and have the second one.” Byleth was bent over her book again. Her expression was hidden by her hair. 

“I’d be happy to join you, my teacher.” Edelgard left the classroom, smiling brighter than she ever had in many years. 

  
  
  



	6. In Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth takes the Black Eagles on a field trip into the marketplace during the Feast of White Roses.

Garreg Mach never ceased to make its guests feel small. Even as heir to an Empire more massive than the monastery in might and size, Edelgard felt dwarfed by the concrete pillars and vaulted ceilings of the Entrance Hall. Alabaster banners of the Church of Seiros hung from stone rafters that seemed to reach the heavens. Even if Edelgard rode on the back of a wyvern, she felt she could never truly touch the ceiling. Nothing seemed tangible in Garreg Mach. The dim orange light flickering off candles and long shadows cast across kaleidoscopic tiles concealed the architecture in another plane of existence separate from the mortal coil. 

The more she stood in the grandeur of the Church and drank in its mystery, the more she grew to hate the taste of it.

“I wonder why Professor had us meet here?” Ferdinand asked. He restlessly glanced around the Hall as knights and priests passed him by. “So late in the afternoon too. It’s curious, very curious. Is this not supposed to be our free time?”

“Maybe Professor has taken to the wonder of the dark arts?” Hubert muttered. His eye glinted with his unbridled eagerness. “One knows it’s best to conjure in the most liminal of times: sunrise and sunset. That is when the veil is thinnest.”

“I-I don’t want to use dark magic!” Bernadetta protested. 

“To convene class today, at this time, after giving us the whole day off yesterday is strange,” Edelgard agreed. “I can’t help but imagine this will be more than simple training, however.”

“Professor!” Caspar exclaimed suddenly. “You’re out of uniform?!”

Entering the western archway, Byleth looked naked compared to the knights armored in metal and priests swaddled in robes. She was nearly unrecognizable without her armor or overcoat. Instead, she wore a pale, long-sleeve tunic that ruffled at her wrists. Drawstrings were lazily laced at her chest and left to dangle over her bosom, untied. The tunic was tailored to fit her, yet she wore a black belt that sat on her hips; it had to be wrapped around her waist twice before the silver buckle could meet the leather tongue. Even latched, the belt hung from her lower abdomen with a careless air that dared anyone to question her fashion choice. Edelgard had the sneaking suspicion the belt belonged to Jeralt. Dark trousers hid her long legs, but they fit her to perfection, unwrinkled and clean. Without her overcoat, she carried her belongings in a beaten old satchel that was slung across her shoulder as an afterthought. All that remained of the mercenary Edelgard knew was her sword, which was fastened to her belt safely in its hilt, and the teal-colored hair framing her face.

“Professor! Don’t you look dashing,” Dorothea admired. 

Edelgard silently agreed with Dorothea as she gazed at Byleth. When Byleth’s cold eyes met her own, she didn’t shy away. 

“Professor, what a surprise!” Ferdinand gasped. He was gazing at her V-neck in wonder, his face slightly reddening. 

“To what do we owe your change in uniform?” Edelgard asked, greeting Byleth with a smile. “Surely you won’t be training in this attire?”

Byleth shook her head. “We won’t be training today. I’ve spoken with Lady Rhea about our progress as a House. So far, all of you supersede the opposing Houses and have excelled in weapons mastery.”

“Naturally,” Ferdinand said. 

“As a reward, we agreed on canceling class yesterday. Today, I called you all together so we may celebrate the Feast of White Roses,” Byleth explained nonchalantly.

“You mean we get to leave the gates?! We can explore the marketplace in its entirety?” Dorothea looked like she would faint from shock.

“What is this feast?” Petra asked, looking horrified. “I wish not to eat flowers.”

“The Feast of White Roses is a festival,” Dorothea explained, smiling dreamily. “People gather and exchange garlands and crowns and necklaces of white roses to show affection for one another. The ‘roses’ you eat are just pastries and candies in the shape of the blossom, they’re not actual roses.”

“Yes! And there’s dancing and games and plenty of beer to drink!” Caspar punched the air with an eager fist. 

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t negotiate you all getting out of uniform to participate in the festivities. And while you’re in uniform, you cannot drink. You all are still students, after all,” Byleth added, causing Caspar to frown. “So I summoned you as if this were just another day in class.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Dorothea assured her. “I’m just happy to get out of this dusty monastery.”

“Ohhh… I’d much rather be in my room,” Bernadetta mumbled. 

“I thought you’d say that.” Byleth reached into her satchel, retrieving a stuffed pink unicorn. “But I need you to show him around the marketplace, okay? I’ll be too busy watching over the House to do it myself.”

Bernadetta’s eyes widened and she blushed. “Y-you want me to look after him?”

Byleth nodded. “Please?”

Hugging the plush animal to her chest, Bernadetta squeezed it and nodded shyly. “Okay… Uhm, Professor? Did you end up… naming him?”

Byleth tilted her head, speaking bluntly with narrowed eyes. “His name’s Pinky.”

Edelgard brought her fingers to her lips, giggling quietly. She had a feeling Byleth never thought to name her stuffed toy until now. 

“As another reward, unlike the other Houses, there will be no curfew tonight for you all. Just bear in mind class will resume at the standard time tomorrow.”

“How generous,” Hubert observed, smirking. “The archbishop places a momentous amount of trust in you, Professor.”

“You all haven’t given me a reason to lose it,” Byleth replied levelly, fiercely meeting Hubert’s gaze. “I have the utmost faith in all of your conduct.” The air intensified with her challenge. 

Hubert looked to oblige her unspoken dare with a dangerous grin. 

“We will be sure not to spoil it tonight, Professor,” Edelgard promised, moving to stand between her and Hubert. “This really is a fantastic gift you’ve given us.”

Byleth glared at Hubert a moment longer before she nodded. “Shall we?” 

“Yes, by your leave, my teacher.” Edelgard gestured toward the massive archway that led to the marketplace. 

The slowly setting sun pined for the horizon, shedding rays of blood across the dark blue sky in its painful descent. The scarlet light set the gray stone walls of Garreg Mach alite. The day would end in a blaze, as always. It would not be long before the silhouette of the moon would appear to whisper its silent farewell to the sun. As the Black Eagles left the shadows of the monastery, they were bathed in the dark red light. 

The marketplace was so grand, it spilled onto the footsteps of the monastery. Edelgard recognized the familiar merchants that bore the privilege of setting up shop within the walls: the blacksmith, battalion guild, battle item connoisseur, and armory. All four were certified by the Church to market on its holy ground, lending assistance to students and knights alike. She had no will to visit them, however, for Byleth was leading them beyond familiarity. Outside the monastery’s metal gate was a small village named Garreg Mach Proper composed of devotees to the Church of Seiros. It was mostly populated by the families and dependents of priests and knights as well as collections of lower-ranking military and church members that dwelled in barracks and abbeys respectively.

No student was allowed to leave the sanctity of Garreg Mach unless on official business or for family emergencies. So, emerging from the cloister without the weight of responsibility on her shoulders was a breath of fresh air after being submerged in water for moons. The cobblestone streets harbored the local vendors of Garreg Mach Proper; they pitched up wooden stands with brightly colored linen roofs meant to engage the eye. Edelgard was overwhelmed as she tried to take in the sight of each one. From across the rooftops of the buildings, streamers bore tiny flags of green and white, the traditional colors of the Feast of White Roses. 

“Feel free to visit the merchants that interest you,” Byleth offered. “Otherwise, we can all head to the town square.”

Common folk perused the streets en mass. Edelgard admired the thrifty stitchwork of their clothing. Their wear was crafted with comfort and utility in mind. The men wore solid-colored tunics held together by wooden buttons or string while lighter undertunics with puffy sleeves sat beneath. The fit of their trousers varied from man to man, with some appearing more form-fitting and others looking purposefully baggy. Women were dressed plainly in cotehardies that dragged across the floor carelessly. Men and women alike expressed their fashion in their accessories; leather belts embroidered with designs and bearing polished buckles were favored by the men, while women kept their necklines together with ornamental brooches. They all wore their best, and it was tailored to fit their hunger-panged frames in the most flattering manner possible. However, none wore it better than Byleth. 

The contrast of common wear from the courtly attire of nobles was sickening. Edelgard recalled seeing men adorned in frivolous trimmings and trappings that meant nothing if not to please the eye. Women had their hair strewn in outlandish styles for the mere whimsy of it after hours of pruning and primping. Men and women of higher blood alike would cake their faces with makeup in an attempt to hide their true selves. Edelgard knew no matter how much powder the nobles wore, she would see their ugly hides. 

“Beautiful!” Petra cried, admiring the incoming tents. 

First, they came upon the artists’ booths. One tent contained ornate clay pottery embellished with rose blossoms. An elderly maid with silverspun hair and a face leathered by age gestured proudly to mugs, plates, and pots of all shapes made by her steady hands. Common ladies flocked to the hand-made merchandise. Necklaces made of bone and antler carvings hung from another tent, creating a makeshift curtain, a man sat within, keen on staying bundled in his furs instead of greeting passersby. More tents gathered to display paintings, wooden sculptures, and crude jewelry. It was a menagerie of imaginative beasts and trinkets, and it could be afforded by all. 

Petra waved sheepishly at the Black Eagles as she left to revisit the tent advertising bone and antler necklaces. “I’ll be seeing you!”

Edelgard’s mouth watered as they came upon the food merchants. The savory aroma in the air was enough to make anyone’s stomach growl. Caspar wasted no time in leaving their group. His eyes found a booth smelling of burnt oak wood. From long skewers, massive turkey legs were on display with blackened skin that barely clung to glistening dark meat. He tossed a coin at the merchant and took the turkey leg in exchange heartily. His lips glistened with a sweet citrus glaze as he tore at the meat. 

“This tastes even better than it looks!” he exclaimed between bites. 

Lindhardt, unable to contain his disgust, retrieved a blue handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Caspar. “Please, you look like a rabid beast right now… The way you inhale your food is sickening.”

Edelgard laughed, only to pause when she noticed one vendor offering beautiful pastries shaped like roses. The delicate pastry was layered to mimic a rose bud, and its petals were dusted with glittering cinnamon and shining with melted sugar. 

“Don’t those look fantastic, Edie?” Dorothea sighed before taking her hand. “Come on, let’s try some! You coming, Bernie?”

“Y-yeah! Wait for me!” 

The three girls ran to the tent, beaming in wonder at the perfection made by human hands. Each pastry was alike in beauty, but different by design. The baker, a corpulent man with rosy cheeks, gestured to his work with a warm grin. “Would the ladies like some flowers?”

“We’ll take four!” Dorothea gushed. 

“Is one for Pinky?” Bernadetta asked.

“No, one is for the Professor, of course.” Dorothea wrapped the extra rose in a piece of parchment paper as they stood before the baker’s booth. 

Edelgard took the rose she was offered with a smile. “Thank you, Dorothea.” As she took a bite of the dessert, it melted in her mouth. The cinnamon and sugar danced on her tongue, singing for another bite. 

“This is—is amazing!” Bernadetta gasped, mouth still full. Cinnamon freckled the corners of her lips. 

“I’ve never tasted anything so good,” Dorothea agreed, sighing. 

“I wish I could eat sweets like this all the time,” Edelgard admitted, disappointed to see her rose was gone in two bites. 

“C-can’t you?” Bernadetta wondered. 

A sad smile invaded Edelgard, but she brushed it off with a laugh. “I guess I could… I’m just not used to it.”

“I bet Professor isn’t used to it either,” Dorothea added, smiling impishly. “Here.” She handed the rose rolled in thin parchment to her. 

Edelgard took the rose pastry gently, frowning. “What do you want me to do with this?” 

“Give it to the Professor, of course,” Dorothea said, smiling meaningfully. 

Edelgard cupped the rose in her palm, feeling a blush coming on. “Me? But you bought it, don’t you want to—“

“Well, Bernie, Pinky, and I are off to find some  _ real _ roses now! Bye-bye, Edie!” And just like that, Dorothea whisked herself and Bernadetta into the crowd of festival-goers; Bernadetta looked more hapless under Dorothea’s arm than Pinky. 

Edelgard swallowed with difficulty and left the tent on her own. In the middle of the street, Byleth and Hubert seemed to be having a stare down. Or rather, Hubert was glaring at her while Byleth maintained an air of aloofness as his eyes singed a hole in her shirt. 

Edelgard gingerly stepped behind Byleth, offering her the rose while she looked the other way. “It’s sentimental, I know, but Dorothea wanted you to have it.” 

Byleth stared at the wrapped pastry curiously before she took it. “How kind of her,” she said. The remark was flat, but her eyes seemed to glow with warmth. Edelgard found herself wishing she took credit for the gift.

“Where did Ferdinand go?” Edelgard asked. Her eyes widened as she saw Byleth eat the pastry in one bite.

Hubert shrugged, looking annoyed. “He spotted a tea shop and vanished with that Lorenz fellow. I wager he will be occupied for the rest of the evening.” 

“Shall we proceed to the town square?” Byleth offered. 

Edelgard looked at her and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

Byleth raised her brows in surprise. “I amuse you?”

“No, but, my teacher, you have cinnamon all over your face!” Edelgard couldn’t stop laughing. Seeing a grown woman, so cold in demeanor, smothered with sugar was too endearing for her heart to handle. 

Hubert was looking at Edelgard with unbridled shock. With every passing second, the wrinkles in his face became more severe. 

“Do I?” Byleth was unbothered. She raised her arm to rub her face with her sleeve. 

“Don’t dirty your clothes!” Edelgard protested, grabbing her arm to pull it down. “Here.” From her uniform pocket, she retrieved a white handkerchief. 

Byleth took it, confusion warping her face. “Why would I need this?” She looked like she wanted to wipe her face with her sleeve again.

“Seriously?” Edelgard shook her head, smiling. Taking her token back, she rose up on the balls of her feet to dab at Byleth’s mouth. “We use it to clean ourselves if we get dirty. Do you not own one of these?”

Byleth was staring down at her, perplexed. Edelgard, suddenly hyper-aware of their closeness, drew back. “I don’t own one of those. I just… get dirty.” Byleth shrugged.

Sadness crept up on Edelgard. They really were worlds apart. “Well, maybe I can buy you one?”

Hubert cleared his throat. His foot was tapping the ground impatiently. “I thought we were going to the town square?”

“Yes, let’s be going then,” Edelgard remembered, flashing him a warning glare.

The air around was warmed by laughter and cheer; it smelled of sweet confectioneries and roasted meat. A promise of chaos lingered in the night as more and more villagers became intoxicated by the festivities.

Byleth walked ahead of them wordlessly. Edelgard was amazed as the festival-goers seemed to move out of her way as a reflex. It was as if they were afraid to be near her. She walked with such aloofness, Edelgard wondered if she would pass through people if they got in her way… like a ghost. She was certainly getting stared at like one. People, young and old, watched her from afar with expressions mixed with unease and awe. They wanted to be her and have her unspoken power, but they didn’t want to be near her. Edelgard empathized with that lonely existence. At least Byleth seemed numb to the stares; she walked through the masses, failing to react to delicious smells or beautiful sights. She didn’t even flinch when someone dropped a glass or began to laugh wildly near her. 

“There’s something… off about her,” Hubert observed. “I don’t like it. I fear we will never know her next move, or her intentions; it’s like she just… exists.”

“Everyone exists for something, Hubert. There has to be something driving her,” Edelgard murmured. 

“The sooner we find out, the better. The more I see her at work, the more I dread the thought of facing her in battle. We don’t even know if she can be  _ killed _ in battle.”

“I saw Kostas take her down, Hubert. She bled like the rest of us.”

“And I saw the axe that did it. A normal woman of her stature, no matter how much training is invested in her body, would fall to a blow at that angle.” Hubert was seething with the mystery of their Professor. “Her armor is not strong enough to withstand a blow from such a weapon, yet…” Enraptured by thought, he grunted in surprise when a drunkard tumbled backward into him. He raised his hand defensively, looking like he wanted to swing on the man that was now flashing him a stupid smile. “Miserable dog!”

“Woah, woah! He didn’t mean it, big guy.” A friend of the drunkard came to his rescue, snatching him up by his waist. 

A second man joined them, eyes wide in fear. “Yeah, we want no trouble.”

“See to it that it never happens again,” Hubert growled. 

The three men bobbed their heads, shaking out their last few brain cells in the process, and lumbered back into the crowd.

“Temper, Hubert. We can’t ruin this evening. Think about the others,” Edelgard reminded him curtly. 

“Apologies, My Lady. I am just on edge.” A shadow marred his face. “When you discovered Byleth had no heartbeat, I thought for certain she was the work of insidious magic. Perhaps a demon conjured to be the Church’s new guard dog?”

It pained Edelgard to hear Hubert speak of Byleth in such a way. She frowned, staring at the cobblestone road as she brooded. “I am working to discover what she is, Hubert. You need to trust me.” 

“Lady Edelgard, I trust you with my life. My worry for you does not stem from mistrust in the slightest. I know how hard you’ve worked and continue to work. If that demon lays waste to your plans, I swear on my life, her head will be mine.”

Hubert’s declaration, branded in malice, was nothing but truth. She knew it, and it made her blood run cold. Imagining Byleth’s head being offered to her seemed more like a punishment than a gift. The idea of losing her… She gazed ahead, watching as Byleth stood frozen before the town square, waiting for them like a statue among men. 

“There will be no killing just yet,” Edelgard decided, eyes downcast. “Who’s to know? Perhaps she will favor our cause in the end.”

“Forgive me, Lady Edelgard, but I believe Professor is too embedded in Lady Rhea’s bosom to even consider looking elsewhere.”

“Maybe she will surprise us,” Edelgard offered gently as they rejoined Byleth. 

The town square teemed with life. Streamers and banners met in the center, where a tower of white roses was built. Women swayed their hands in the air as they twirled their gowns looking like unfurling petals as they danced. Men in turn pranced around the women like stags. Occasionally, men and women would meet and spin together. The interval continued in rhythm with the music. 

Edelgard saw the band of musicians under a tent; their faces grew red from the effort of producing their art. She recognized the instruments immediately. Three drum players, with drums for bellies, thundered percussion that was heard from across the square. Three other players manned their own hurdy-gurdys, ringing out a whining tune that meshed with the boom of the beat. Finally, foremost in the tent, two musicians danced with their lutes plucking a tune that riled up the festival-goers. 

With the sun beyond reach, the moon came out to play, and with it were the stars and the night sky. Less lighting seemed to embolden the villagers. Edelgard watched as they stumbled out of beer tents with their wooden steins, leaning and laughing on one another for no rational reason other than sheer joy. She could see alcohol slicken the stone streets, tempting the unweary traveler to slip and tumble for the drunkards’ amusement. Foam sloshed at the brims of the brews as vendors became more generous with their pours. Edelgard grew uneasy as she saw knights guzzle down their stouts and ale with reckless abandon; some were still in uniform. 

“It looks like the other Houses are here,” Byleth noticed. 

“Delightful,” said Hubert dryly. 

Sure enough, Edelgard recognized the faces of other Academy students. She saw Sylvain first, with his fiery red hair, adding yet another necklace to his collection, courtesy of a blushing maiden. He bore a mane of white petals with pride. 

Hilda was seated on a barrel, legs crossed. A line of suitors stood before her, each one bearing a necklace of roses longer than the last. 

Posted up at a table sat Raphael, Ingrid, and Caspar, all with full bellies and warm smiles, Raphael was admiring what was likely his sixth turkey leg. His bulging belly taunted his wooden buttons as they struggled to keep his mammoth body contained. 

A cacophony of laughter filled the air from a nearby beer tent. Professor Manuela was leaning onto a man with a face as red as a tomato, and he couldn’t get a word in over her constant giggling, but he didn’t seem to care. 

“What’s this? Hey, Teach! Long time no see.” A familiar pair of bright green eyes greeted Edelgard with a wink before sliding back to gaze at Byleth. “You’re looking stony-faced as usual.”

“Hello, Claude,” Byleth greeted. 

“And the Imperial Princess as well?” Claude looked fervently up at the night sky, searching. “There must be a blue moon out for you two to be about at a party like this.”

Edelgard’s smile was thin. “We all need some fresh air sometimes, Claude.”

“Some more than others.” He chuckled, eyeing Edelgard playfully. He took Byleth’s hand next, a dashing smile on his olive-toned face. “You can’t possibly plan on staying on the sidelines all night, Teach? Let me show you a good time.”

A weird emotion clawed at Edelgard’s stomach as Claude finished his request with a kiss to Byleth’s hand. She watched as Byleth stared Claude down and found herself hoping she would refuse.

“That sounds… fun,” Byleth murmured. 

“It’s a yes!” He took her hand. “Let’s go. The night is just getting started!”

Edelgard watched helplessly as Claude led Byleth to the heart of the village. The festival-goers were forming circles around massive pots of white roses. Claude and Byleth broke a circle, joining in just as the tambourines hissed the start of a new band and a new song. 

“Do you wish to join them?” Hubert asked. 

“No. I’m just surprised she said yes.”

“Would you have asked her to dance if you knew she would agree?” he asked again. 

Edelgard frowned, crossing her arms. “Hubert, don’t pry.” The clawing at her stomach became more fierce as the sight of Byleth was swallowed by more and more dancers. 

“My apologies, Lady Edelgard.”

“Edelgard?” Pushing from the crowd, a young man dressed in deep blue emerged. His blond brows raised in surprise when his eyes met Edelgard’s.

“Dimitri?” Edelgard shared his surprise.

“It’s good to see you.” He offered a smile. It was the same smile he always had; one that was void of warmth. It only served to hide the sadness in his eyes. 

“I’m surprised you’re here.” 

He laughed softly. “I could say the same.” 

Sensing a change in atmosphere, Hubert became gracious. “My Lady, I think I saw Caspar talking smack to a drunk. Shall I handle it?”

“Yes, Hubert, thank you. But do be gentle. We have class tomorrow,” Edelgard advised. 

Once Hubert left, Dimitri gestured to unoccupied barrels beside a roasted vegetable cart. “Sit with me?”

Edelgard obliged him in silence. Together, they sat away from the square, but close enough to still see sweat glisten on the dancers’ foreheads. 

“I must admit, seeing Her Highness out here tonight came as a shock,” Dimitri began. His voice was as smooth as it was proper. 

“I can say the same to you, Lordling.” Edelgard eyed him suspiciously. “You’re too diligent to come here on your own.”

He laughed again. Even his laughs sounded hollow. “I am here to make sure there’s no trouble.”

She smiled at that. “From Professor Manuela or the Blue Lions?”

This time, they laughed together. They looked like any other couple of students, swapping jokes and burning time. However, in Edelgard’s mind, she was playing a game. 

“And what brings you here? Certainly not the promise of a good time?” Dimitri asked, resting his chin on his hand. 

“I am here at the request of my teacher and nothing more,” Edelgard answered. She brushed her hand in the air dismissively. “I don’t make friends with idle time.”

“Unfortunately, I know you’re telling the truth.” His eyes were downcast as he spoke. His disheveled blond bangs hid their shine. “Rarely do we get the chance to leave behind our titles and just… have fun. Though, it is a special day for you today—“ 

“Don’t even start,” she warned, face flushed. She shook her head at him as he smirked and watched the passersby, expression darkening. “I feel my title never leaves me. I can never forget who I am and what I must do.” 

There was a pause. The festival was kind enough to fill their silence with a chorus of drunken delight and exciting music. Finally, Dimitri said, “Yet, you seem happier, somehow. I’m envious.”

“Happy?”

He nodded. “Yes. When I see you in passing, you seem to have a genuine smile on your face instead of the false one you wear at court.” 

“I never noticed.” Edelgard frowned, staring down at her boots that dangled from where she sat.

“I know. Cruel, isn’t it?” He was watching the stars as he spoke, talking to someone else in a different time. “We never know how truly happy we are until the moment passes us by, and by then, we can only reminisce on what was.”

Edelgard’s voice lowered as her heart sank to her stomach. “I cannot say I have many kind memories to visit.”

“Perhaps not… but I know you will be able to carve out your own happiness in the future.” Dimitri was offering a smile again. “You deserve as much.”

She glared at him. “You’re kind, Dimitri, but you forget yourself. We are meant to rule opposing forces. Will you still be wishing for my happiness when you take the throne?”

“You haven’t given me a reason not to want that for you.” The word “yet” hung in the air, unspoken but heavy. 

Silence returned, more oppressive than before.

Edelgard raised her voice, shattering the silence, as she said, “Let’s not act like children. You and I both know we have our own expectations for the future. We will be opposing dynasts longer than we will be students attending the same finishing school.” Her eyes burned into his. “What if my aspirations were to clash with yours one day?”

“If you force my hand, I can’t promise I’ll be merciful,” he decided softly, as if it pained him to say it. He looked away from her, smiling again. “I like to think that we could live in peace. The world we live in is too beautiful to be bathed in blood.”

“I wish I could see it your way, but much of the world wasn’t beautiful to me.”

“There always exists a duality in life. If we can see the ugliness of it and know beauty lies somewhere within, I think we have a chance at everlasting peace.”

“Sometimes, you need to unearth the beauty on your own,” Edelgard decided. 

Suddenly, she realized she could not withstand Dimitri’s company. She hopped off the barrel and dusted off her uniform. 

Dimitri stood as if to join her. “Where are you going?”

“To dance!” 

Edelgard left the other House Leader, throwing herself into a crowd of sweaty, alcohol-smelling bodies. She wanted to get as far away from him, from everything, as possible. She shoved and pushed between the people, squinting her eyes against the harsh odor emanating off their sodden clothes. Once she broke free from the thick of the mass, she could breathe again, but it came in gulps. She stood before the massive tower of white roses, gasping. She could feel it. The shadow. It was crawling up the back of her legs and tugging at her, wanting her to retreat to the darkness. She knew what waited for her there. Her heart hammered against her rib cage, wishing to break out before the shadow could consume it. 

When she felt something take her hand, she knew she would be pulled into the abyss. 

“That’s not how you dance.” 

Edelgard looked up to see cold, blue eyes and a pale face warmed by the light of the surrounding bonfires. “Professor?”

Byleth pulled her up. Edelgard didn’t realize she was kneeling to her anxiety until she rose from it again. “Dance with me,” she said. It wasn’t a question. 

Edelgard joined her in a circle of dancers that surrounded a rose bowl. She looked at Byleth curiously. “I… am afraid I don’t know what to do.” 

Byleth nodded. “Yeah, me neither.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Claude said something about spinning around the roses and then stepping forward to clap,” Byleth explained briskly. She sounded like she was trying to describe a combat art rather than a folk dance. 

“When do we do what?” Edelgard asked, confusion swarming her. 

Byleth shrugged and took her hand. “Just follow the others.”

A jolly man decked in a bright yellow tunic chirped. “Ready!” He sang. “Here comes the music!” 

The rattle of a tambourine stirred Edelgard’s nerves. Slowly, the dancers, with their hands linked, began to skip around the roses. The windy note of a flute tinted the air with its softness. It was followed by the beating of drums. They circled the roses faster until the flute reached its crescendo, then they closed in on the roses and clapped three times. After they clapped, joined hands, and spun again, the music and their footsteps would move faster. Edelgard felt her heart leap with joy as she was taken by the rhythm. She smiled, glancing over at Edelgard, and she thought she saw the slightest uptick at the corners of her mouth. A smile?

“Faster!” The jolly man sang. 

They spun again and again, clapping and laughing together until Edelgard thought she would be drunk with happiness. When the song finally finished, her knees were wobbly and the festival was spinning into a smear of colors. Around her, people shouted and cheered for an encore. She teetered forward, falling into the cold, strong arms of Byleth. 

“What’s wrong?” Byleth asked. 

Edelgard gazed up in a daze, seeing three heads and six blue eyes _. A demon _ , something whispered inside of her. Shaking the thought off, she squeezed her eyes shut. She curled her fingers into the thin fabric of her shirt. “I’m just dizzy.” She laughed. 

“Do you want to sit down?” Byleth slowly guided her away from the square. 

“No.” Her fingers curled tighter. She could feel the firmness of Byleth’s abdomen through the fabric. “Actually, I—“

“A demon!” someone shrieked. 

Edelgard froze, and Byleth’s body tensed against her. 

Running into the square, the drunken man that had bumped into Hubert earlier tumbled. His knees were bloody, dampening his dirty trousers. His sandy brown hair was glued but sweat. The drink made his eyes swell, and what was left visible was reddened by the heat of his stupor and full of tears. He gestured wildly behind him, saliva dripped from his lips as he sputtered. 

“A demon!” he said again. 

“Piss off, drunkard!” a man shouted from the crowd. 

Another man through an empty stein at him. “Just get an’er beer an’ shaddup!” 

“No!” His friend joined him, looking paler than a ghost. “It’s true! A demon! Death incarnate!” 

Edelgard frowned, rage boiling up inside of her. She pushed away from Byleth abruptly, crossing the square. 

“Edelgard?” Byleth called to her, but she didn’t answer. 

From the shadows, Death came. A massive silhouette shone from the darkness of the alley the men retreated from. The sight of blood red eyes coaxed gasps and screams from the villagers. It didn’t take long for panic to set in. 

In a wake of shouts and cries, the villagers fled from the square. People shoved and cursed at one another as they desperately crawled to safety. Edelgard pushed her way through them, brows furrowed. Tents were ruined by trampling. Barrels and carts were sent flying, gutted, their contents spilling into the streets. Drunken people hastily ran in senseless directions, knocking one another over; some started fighting with one another as they fell prey to fear. Edelgard did not let herself become a victim.

She ran for the alley, keeping to the shadows. Her breath came quick and her feet ran quicker. She heard sobbing from another alleyway and the sound of someone vomiting, but she didn’t stop. Her heart thundered in her chest as she entered the dark alleyway. No torchlight was there to save her from the shadows, so she became them. Stepping in the dark, her mind honed in on the one she sought. She found her target retreating deeper down the alley, where a dark horse waited. The steed’s massive nostrils billowed with steam as its bulging black eyes found Edelgard. The demon, however, did not spare her a glance. 

She called out to the demon. 

“Theatrical as always, aren’t we,  _ Death Knight?” _

The dark apparition froze. It turned, the outline of its frame glinting in the pale moonlight. The demon was dressed in black armor. On its head sat a macabre helmet mimicking a horned skull. Its eyes burned through her. 

“Your Highness. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edelgard frowned, approaching it with her arms crossed. “You’re dangerously close to the monastery. I am here to redirect your energy elsewhere.”

Every breath the creature took rattled the black steel that cocooned it. With each movement, its body clamored hollowly. “I am here to sow fear. Is that not what was requested?” It kneeled down on one knee, yielding to her. “‘Twas Her Highness that named fear our greatest weapon.”

“Yet you failed to grasp the meaning of an ‘opportune moment.’” A fiery rage seared through her voice as she stared down Death. “Now is not the time.”

“Perhaps Her Highness has a change of heart?” Its gaze met hers, unfeeling. 

As anger fueled her, Edelgard was overcome. From her fingertips, Fire flickered and she smashed it onto the stone street with a hiss. Her eyes burned into the demon. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking anyone wants this more than I do. You are to wait for my order, is that clear?”

Death stared at the blackened stones. A chuckle rattled from it, sounding far away. “Ah, so the Ashen Demon taught Her Highness to conjure? Does she have no limit to her potential?”

“It matters not what was taught, but what is executed.” Edelgard turned on him, facing the entrance to the alley. “Death Knight, I order you to retire from this escapade.”

“ _ They _ grow restless, Your Highness.” Its whisper slithered from the cold steel to lick at her ear. 

Edelgard froze. 

“ _ They _ whisper in the dark about the demon that walks among us. They feel… she has great power within.”

“My ambition will not be swayed by her presence,” Edelgard snapped. “Our primary focus is and always will be the Church.”

“Yet, the demon is under the Church, is she not? Lady Rhea favors her.  _ They _ want to know why.”

“As I’ve said before, Professor Byleth is under my watch. No one is to make any bids against her without my word.” 

Edelgard turned to face Death fearlessly, catching it mounting the dark steed. The dark knight tugged on the reins of its horse, nodding to its Princess. 

“As you wish, Your Highness. I will spread the word.” A green light shone from the horse’s hooves, and it swirled around the Death Knight in a high-pitched wail. “But, I must warn you.  _ They _ want her, Your Highness.  _ They _ see a greatness in her that could benefit our cause. Never forget, Your Highness, never forget about  _ The Ones Who Slither in the Dark.”  _

In a flash of green light, the Death Knight vanished. Edelgard waited until the last wisps of his silhouette faded into the dark before she dropped to her knees, breathing erratically. She curled her fingers into her white hair, focusing on the burn she gave the earth as she struggled to find her composure. 

“Edelgard?” 

From behind, she heard Byleth’s voice calling her. Edelgard rose, her eyes wide with terror as she stared at the dead end of the alley. She had nowhere to run. Turning, she saw the icy blue eyes of Byleth glowing in the night. She found her so quickly. She had to have seen… 

Byleth silently approached her. She was swift and unbothered by the clutches of the dark. Her eyes saw through her. Edelgard stepped back, heart pounding. She was caught. As the space between them closed, Edelgard instantly reached for her dagger, her fingers trembled as she pulled it from the hilt. 

She was never able to draw it. 

Byleth, once she was close, wrapped her arms around her. Edelgard stiffened as she felt herself being pulled closer to Byleth. Surprise flowed through her as she was hugged tight, but then she surrendered to it. She pressed her face into Byleth’s shoulder, able to smell the faint scent of soap in her hair. Byleth’s fingers, still so cool to the touch, pressed into the small of Edelgard’s back as their bodies moulded to one another’s shape. She could feel Byleth’s warm breath at the nape of her neck and shivered, shutting her eyes as she enjoyed the feeling. 

“You’re safe,” Byleth whispered. 

Edelgard was unable to return the hug before Byleth pulled away. “Professor?”

“I looked for you,” Byleth began. 

Edelgard’s breath caught in her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“When you left… I knew I had to find you.”

“And you found me.” Edelgard smiled.

Byleth’s face was colder than usual. Her jaw was set. Her blue eyes rivaled the night sky in their depth of darkness. “I found you alone.”

“Yes?” Confusion muddled Edelgard, making it hard for her to talk.

“Why must you always go alone? I was there. You ran anyway.”

“I wanted to find the demon,” Edelgard explained. It wasn’t a total lie. She hated lying to her. “I wanted to prevent it from hurting anyone.”

“But you could’ve hurt yourself,” Byleth argued sternly. 

“I understand the upset I caused you,” Edelgard conceded, avoiding her eyes. “For that, I am sorry, but I refuse to apologize for protecting people.”

“If you’re always protecting others, who is left to protect you?” Byleth demanded. 

Edelgard was at a loss for words. Then, anger rose up inside of her again. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” she argued. 

Byleth’s eyes widened, then she shook her head sadly. “I’ve already said I don’t want apologies from you, Edelgard.” She offered her hand. “Let’s go. This isn’t a good place to talk.”

Edelgard took her hand, feeling a wave of nervousness strike her. As Byleth led her out of the alley, she felt her body unwind again. All the tension and anger that plagued her muscles released from her. When they returned to the town square, they found abandoned tents left to crumble and streets littered with wooden steins and forgotten roses. Knights of Seiros paraded the streets with torches and angry faces, searching for a demon that would never be found. 

“I am sorry to see the festival end this way,” Edelgard admitted. 

Byleth nodded quietly. “This is not how I wanted this day to end.”

“Is everyone okay?” Edelgard asked, her concern rising. 

“All the students returned to the monastery safely, no thanks to Professor Manuela.”

Edelgard giggled.

“You were the only one we couldn’t find,” Byleth added. Her brooding voice deepened. 

“I’m—“

“Don’t say it,” Byleth interrupted. 

They walked to the monastery, hand-in-hand. Edelgard laced her fingers with Byleth’s, enjoying the feeling of her touch, however fleeting. 

“Before you retire for the evening, I have something,” Byleth murmured. She reached into her satchel, retrieving an armored stuffed bear. In its fuzzy paws, it held a single white rose that had yet to bloom. 

Edelgard stared at the gift, awestruck. “Professor…”

Byleth handed the bear to Edelgard. Her eyes were soft. “Happy Birthday, Edelgard.”

A blush stained Edelgard’s face as she hugged the bear close. Emotion rose into her throat, strangling her of speech. She only managed to rasp, “How did you know?”

“I’m a professor, I know everyone’s birthday.”

“Thank you, my teacher. Really, this is too kind. I don’t usually—“

“Celebrate your birthday, yes, I know.” Byleth nodded. “I figured as much when none of the other Black Eagles celebrated with you.”

“I don’t let them.”

Byleth gazed into her eyes. “You let me.”

“Yes, I let you do a lot for me.” Edelgard smiled fondly, stroking the bear’s soft face. 

She felt Byleth draw closer to her. Glancing up, she saw her staring intently at her. The light in her eyes held an unexplainable emotion she had never seen before. Her heart was held captive by Byleth’s silence. Slowly, carefully, Byleth brought her hand to Edelgard’s face. Her fingers traced along her cheekbone and down to cup the side of her face. Edelgard shivered at her touch. 

Byleth looked away as she took back her hand. “You should get some sleep. Class starts again tomorrow.”

“What about you, Professor?” Edelgard asked breathlessly. 

Byleth was already walking down the cobblestone street, her hands in the pockets of her trousers. “I must assist the knights in finding this so-called ‘demon,’” she explained, sounding bored. She hesitated under a torchlight, turning to glare at Edelgard one last time. “What do you think it is?”

“I…” She squeezed her stuffed bear, staring at Byleth in wonder. The gentleness of her touch did not match the ferocity in her gaze. “I don’t know what it is.”

Byleth nodded, turned to walk back down the marketplace. Edelgard watched her go, still holding her stuffed animal to her chest. She was running out of time; she needed to know what Byleth was and of her true potential. Her life depended on it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your support and kind words in the comments. I want all of you to know that the time you take to comment on my work is precious to me and inspires me to continue this story! 
> 
> Expect to see more updates in the coming weeks. And Never Forget... The Ones Who Slither in the Dark.


	7. Divine Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard accompanies Byleth to the Audience Chamber, where they receive their next mission.

Dewdrops of sunshine beaded the obscured windows in Edelgard’s room. The warmth of day slowly seeped through the glass to kiss her pale skin. It stirred her from sleep; she rose from her red satin sheets with a yawn. The sun only just broke from the horizon, and it already burned the massive red rug in the center of her quarters, causing the several embroidered  _ fleur-de-lis _ to shimmer. She stepped off her bed and began to make it, neatly tucking her sheets and rolling back the scarlet duvet to make room for her feather-stuffed pillow. 

Edelgard smiled fondly as she placed her plush bear before her pillow, so that it would be there to wait for her when she went to sleep again. She pinched its fuzzy armor and said, “Keep watch of my bedroom, Bo.”

The hallway outside her room was already occupied by hurried footsteps and the laughter of students rushing to their morning lectures. Edelgard’s long chemise slowly peeled from her body as she undressed. The silk was so fine it was near translucent; it slid off her pale skin with the gentleness of a whisper and gathered at her ankles. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and hastily looked away. All she needed was a glance at her reflection to be reminded of the countless scars that laced her body. Edelgard rushed for her uniform as her eyes recognized the long, precise incisions scoring her. Nausea welled up in her empty stomach as the scars on her body became more and more apparent. 

Unlike Byleth’s, Edelgard’s scars did not have the ragged angles and jagged outlines of a combat wound. Her scars were clean and precise. Her scars were made with intent, not happenstance. She hurriedly slipped on her red tights, hiding her legs. Her dark, long-sleeved blouse came next. When she looked in the mirror again, she was completely covered. She exhaled loudly as her nausea ebbed. 

As she sat down at her desk to brush her hair, she heard a knock. Staring at her door quizzically, she imagined Hubert standing there, waiting for an invitation like a brooding vampire. Edelgard ignored him. The Death Knight’s escapade the night before wore her patience thin; she was not in the mood for Hubert to test her at the crack of dawn. 

The knock came again, louder and more forceful. 

“Not right now, Hubert,” Edelgard snapped. She winced as her whale tooth comb caught a tangle in her white hair. 

At her response, the door burst open, revealing Byleth. Her eyes first found Bo sitting on the bed before they found her. 

“Professor?!” Edelgard dropped her comb as she stood. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you of all people would be knocking so early.”

“We need to go,” Byleth said with urgency. 

“Go?” Edelgard echoed. Her eyes widened as anxiety found her. Did this have something to do with the Feast of White Roses? She hesitated, combing her fingers through her snow-white hair. “I am almost done getting ready. Would you mind waiting?”

Byleth leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms. She endured patiently with a blank expression. 

“Thank you,” Edelgard murmured. 

She sat back down at her desk, combing through her hair once more. After every brush, she dabbed the teeth of the comb in a brass bowl containing rose water and tiny geranium petals. Beside the bowl sat a clear glass vase containing several red roses; a single bud sat in the center, yet to bloom, but the lips of its impending blossom glowed white. The gentle floral perfume of the water clung to her pale hair gracefully with a glossy sheen. All the while, she could feel Byleth’s eyes watching her every move. 

The night before, after receiving her birthday gift, she had the feeling that Byleth wanted to be closer to her. The idea of it, the mere thought of it, seemed outrageous coming from the cold hearted mercenary. Yet, the way she touched her face felt surprisingly tender. She remembered how gently Byleth held her when they reunited in the alley and considered, perhaps, Byleth was not as cold as she seemed. Edelgard realized she was brushing the same strands of hair over and over as she grew more flustered.

“Must you stand there?” Edelgard asked, blushing. “It’s really distracting.” 

“You’re not even looking at me,” Byleth pointed out flatly. 

“Yes, but I can feel you staring.” Edelgard huffed.

“You don’t want me to stare at you?” 

“Nevermind!” Edelgard began to tie her purple ribbon in her hair. “What’s this about anyway?” 

“We are going to see Lady Rhea.”

Edelgard nearly choked on the hair pin she had pursed in her lips. The idea of seeing Lady Rhea so soon after reeling in the Death Knight made her intestines liquify. “Say again?”

“Lady Rhea,” Byleth repeated, her voice sharper. 

“For what purpose?” Edelgard decided to take longer intertwining her purple ribbon with her snowy locks. 

She could hear Byleth rustle in the doorway, growing impatient in silence. “We are to be tasked with another mission. I want the House Leader to be present.”

Her eyes widened as she pinned her hair back and away from her face. “You want me to be there?”

“Of course.” 

Edelgard stood, sighing. She was flattered to be included, but the idea of facing Lady Rhea in the flesh still made her insides churn. As she joined Byleth, she offered her a small smile. “I’m ready. Shall we?”

Staring down at her, Byleth nodded slowly but didn’t move. Her eyes roved over her hair and face, searching. “You smell nice,” she murmured.

Heat rose up to Edelgard’s face. She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling strangely shy. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Hm?”

“Your eyes,” Byleth said. “There are dark circles under them. Does sleep evade you?”

Edelgard turned away. Byleth was too keen. In truth, sleep often evaded her, but she refused to let her know why. “Professor, you should know better than to remark on a lady’s blemishes,” she chided, smirking. 

“Sorry.” Byleth stepped abruptly out into the hallway, startling a pair of nobles that were passing by. Her glare sent them walking faster, muttering with unease. 

Together, they left the dormitory. Their footsteps were cushioned by a long-running red and purple rug that hid the cherry wood flooring. Between every massive window was an equally massive vase beholding several blossoms and curled ferns. Heavy curtains flanked each window, strangling what little sunlight shone through. The highborne students that flocked within the halls of the dormitory’s second story were at home among the lavish decor, though several still insisted on adorning their nests with more expensive enrichment like marble busts and fine art. Byleth looked out of place among the finery of her surroundings. The dull sheen of her armor and the drab fade of her overcoat garnered more than a curious glance from the blueblooded students. Once they realized Byleth walked alongside Edelgard, they seemed to understand and looked away, continuing their talks of wayward politics and money. 

Once they descended the dormitory’s stairs to the first floor Edelgard was able to breathe again. If the second floor was night, the first floor was day. Simple knotted wood panels padded the floor, free of rugs and carpeting. The walls were an eggshell white dimpled with red brick. The commoners gallivanted down the hall, animatedly talking about the wonders of knighthood, horseback riding, and adventure. They had no one to impress among their own; no estate lingered in their image. They were free to be whatever they wanted to be at the cost of creature comforts and status. Yet, even among the common student, Byleth seemed out of place. Her detached aura and unfriendly eyes quieted even the most boastful of the students. 

“How did  _ you _ sleep last night?” Edelgard finally asked. 

“I didn’t,” she replied bluntly. Byleth must have sensed Edelgard’s surprise because she went on to say, “I chose to stay in the village with the knights until daybreak.”

“How industrious of you,” Edelgard remarked. “Did you find anything?”

“Nothing of use.”

Stepping outside the dormitory, they were greeted by warm sunshine and a gentle breeze. The pink pastel skies of dawn bled into gold and then faded pale blue as day approached. Edelgard inhaled their sweet Garland Moon air with a smile. It was a beautiful day. 

Byleth led her up the stone steps that guided them to the path leading to the Reception Hall. Edelgard gazed up in wonder at the massive architecture enclosing them. Buildings reached for the clouds, hoping to penetrate the heavens in their grandeur. Even birds could not fly to the highest point of the roof without stopping for a break on the windowsills.

“Are you not tired?” Edelgard asked as Byleth pushed through the door to the Reception Hall. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Byleth muttered. 

From the eastern entrance of the Reception Hall, the lilting song of worship echoed from the Cathedral. It was a ghastly noise to hear within the dismal hallway. Only one candle flickered, offering a weak orange light that barely kissed the stone walls before being strangled by shadows. The distant choir proclaimed their worship in song, encouraging the lonely flame to dance meekly in the dark. Before they reached the Hall, Byleth hung a right to climb another staircase. The distant chorus followed them. 

As they neared the Audience Chamber, Edelgard grew more uneasy. Their footsteps carried perpetually down the hollow corridors. 

“What will be the nature of this moon’s mission, my teacher?” 

Byleth glanced back at her, shaking her head. “I am not certain. However, as we are the leading House in the Academy, I wager we will be trusted with something meaningful.”

She kept close to Byleth’s shadow as they entered a massive room bathed in blue light. Sunlight filtered through several stained glass windows occupying the far reaches of the chamber’s ceiling in a tourbillon of colors. The marble pillars and pale walls were stained with the radiating color. The tile flooring mimicked the iridescent array of the window, warping Edelgard’s vision so she knew not where the floor ended and the walls began. The chandeliers seemed to be dangling from the heavens, for there was no ceiling in sight. Only a single, dark wood chair at the center of the room kept her grounded. It was akin to a throne, embellished with golden heraldry meant for the ruling archbishop.

The archbishop was standing in the center of the chamber, waiting for her audience. Her hands were folded neatly before her, for she never needed to reach for anything. It all came to her. Not unlike the holy infrastructure cloistering her, Edelgard was dwarfed by Lady Rhea’s gaze. Once her pale green eyes found Edelgard, they never left. Her gaze was as intense and thorough as Byleth’s. However, while Byleth seemed to stare through her and peer at what remained within, Lady Rhea stared through her by peeling away every inch of her person, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Behind her eyes, Edelgard knew she was constantly calculating, playing several games at once. They were the same in that way. 

Byleth wasted no time in basking in her decadent surroundings. She approached the archbishop with haste. “Lady Rhea,” she greeted in a cool monotone. “I’ve brought my House Leader with me. I believe she should be present when missions are assigned.”

The archbishop’s gaze flickered away from Edelgard to Byleth. Her eyes immediately softened. “How considerate of you to include your House Leader in these affairs.”

“I believe she has a right to know as I do,” Byleth added firmly. 

Lady Rhea slid her gaze to Edelgard. Her pale face was as serene and smooth as porcelain. Her full, peach-colored lips curved into a gracious smile that did not meet her eyes. “You must be honored by this privilege, Lady Edelgard. Professors do not typically value their House Leaders as yours does.”

Though her voice was saccharine, once words left her lips, Edelgard felt a chill go down her spine. Mistrust radiated from her as she returned her smile with a bow. “Yes, Lady Rhea, I am honored to be included in such affairs. I only hope to continue to earn Professor’s respect.”

“You are also top of the class, is that correct?” Lady Rhea carried on. The muse in her voice was undeniable. 

Edelgard felt her walls being broken down brick by brick as Lady Rhea continued to pick her apart gracefully. “Yes, that is correct.”

“I expected nothing less from the heir of the Adrestian Empire. You have a momentous destiny, my child. I pray that you continue to achieve in your efforts,” Lady Rhea praised gently. Her judicious aura perforated Edelgard, evaluating her insides. “It would be a shame to see you fall from the grace of the goddess.”

“Thank you. I can assure you, Lady Rhea, I do not intend to fall.” Edelgard allowed meaningful determination to slip into her voice. 

“Of course, your success is a reflection of our dear Professor.” Lady Rhea watched Byleth, evaluating. She stared at Byleth like one would marvel at a well-bred stallion or fine art, appraising something rare to be gained. “Your impact here is momentous.”

Byleth nodded her thanks, then, crossed her arms. “And the mission?”

Lady Rhea shut her eyes, a thoughtful hum escaping her. “Eager as always, dear Professor.” She smiled as she opened her eyes again. Her voice, still soft as a rose petal, became more grave. “There is a disturbance within the Kingdom. One of the Lords has taken up arms against the Church.”

Edelgard felt a wave of excitement roll through her. There were whispers of mutiny within the monastery, but she never thought them to be true. Interest piqued, she listened to the archbishop’s news with quiet enjoyment. 

“It is with great sadness that I will be sending the Knights of Seiros to quell the rebellion. Drawing one’s sword on the Church is akin to drawing one’s sword on the goddess herself,” Lady Rhea continued. The sadness of her words failed to parallel the wrath in her eyes. 

“And what role will the Black Eagles play in this?” Byleth pressed. 

“Merely damage control, dear Professor. The knights will make quick work of this brash effort, but transgressors will likely slip through the cracks. You are to follow the vanguard as an auxiliary, nothing more.”

“If I may, Lady Rhea, why would someone rise up against the Church?” Edelgard asked. Her heart fluttered in anticipation for the answer. “And who is it that is rebelling?”

Lady Rhea nodded. “The leader of the rebellion is Lord Lonato of House Gaspard.”

Edelgard’s eyes widened. For such a prominent man to take up arms against the Church, there had to be a serious root to his cause. She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“As for the reasoning behind his heresy, it likely stems from a culmination of poorly handled grief and rage.” Lady Rhea frowned, her eyes downcast. “It is truly tragic, but maddening. For someone to turn against their faith when they need it most… the thought wounds me.”

“Lady Rhea?” Byleth seemed uneasy with the archbishop’s mourning. 

“Forgive me,” Lady Rhea murmured, smiling wanly at Byleth. “Matters such as these never cease to sadden me. Perhaps if Lord Lonato dissented without violence, we could have come to aid his ailing heart.” She sighed softly. “Alas, now he may only repent for his crime to the sword.”

Edelgard narrowed her eyes. So casually the archbishop sealed a man’s fate, and what was worse, all those that followed him would meet the same end. When punishment for blasphemy was death, how could one ever hope speak out against the Church? Rage bubbled up within her as she realized the gravity of Lady Rhea’s judgement. She wondered what Byleth thought. Stealing a glance she was unsurprised, but incredibly frustrated, to see her unreadable expression.

“We will accept the mission,” Byleth said. 

“Thank you, dear Professor.” Lady Rhea dipped her head in gratitude. Her eyes stared behind them now. “Before you depart with your precious student, I must introduce you to someone.”

Her words were followed by the echo of rattling steel. Entering the Audience Chamber was a woman plated in pearly armor that glinted with every movement. Her bright blue eyes burned with a fire that could never be doused. Each step was a swagger, daring all those she crossed to get in her way. Edelgard immediately recognized her. Cassandra Rubens Charon, or as she most commonly known...

“Thunder Catherine,” Edelgard murmured. 

“Yes. She will be accompanying your House in the mission. Should anything go awry, you will be safe with her,” Lady Rhea assured them. 

Catherine flashed a debonair smile, bowing to the archbishop. “Lady Rhea, you summoned me?”

“I’d like you to meet Professor Byleth and her House Leader, Edelgard von Hresvelg. They will be accompanying your troops in dealing with the aftermath of Lord Lonato’s rebellion.” She glowed at Catherine the way a farmer would beam at their plentiful harvest. 

“Professor Byleth?” Catherine regarded Byleth with a quirked brow. “I’ve heard of your work, both in and out of Garreg Mach. I’m eager to work with you.” Her dashing smile never faltered, but she looked upon Byleth as most people did, with weariness. 

She looked to Edelgard next, bowing once more. “And Her Highness, of course.” She was brimming with confidence. “By title, I am Sir Catherine, a captain among the Knights of Seiros.” She looked over her new counterparts with an appraising gaze. “With a team like this, we can sweep any army.”

Byleth was unmoved by her proclamation. She merely glared at Catherine with an imperturbable aura emanating off her. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Catherine,” Edelgard greeted politely. She offered her hand to shake. “I look forward to working with you as well.”

Instead of shaking her hand, Catherine brought it to her lips, kissing her knuckles gently. “The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness.”

Though the gesture took her by surprise, Edelgard did not feel the same warmth in her kiss as she did when Byleth offered the same greeting. 

“We should be leaving now,” Byleth said suddenly. There was an edge to her voice as she continued to glare at Catherine. 

“So soon?” Catherine murmured, raising her brows in surprise. “I thought we could get more acquainted. Perhaps we can spar? I’m sure I can impress Her Highness with my grappling skills.”

Edelgard narrowed her eyes at the boastful knight. What was she playing at?

“Another day,” Byleth decided dismissively. “My class will be commencing soon and the rest of the students are waiting.”

“I’ve heard you were hard working. Glad to see the rumors are true,” Catherine remarked. Despite her good-natured grin, Edelgard thought she heard a subtle taunt in her voice; it was like an elder sibling goading on their younger. “As you wish, Professor. We shall spar another day.”

Edelgard took her hand back from Catherine, offering her a smile as she joined Byleth’s side. 

“Have a wonderful day, my children,” Lady Rhea called after them. “May the goddess guide you.” 

“Farewell, Lady Rhea.” Edelgard departed with Byleth, finally able to breathe now that she was out of the archbishop’s shadow. 

Byleth was storming out of the Audience Chamber with more force in her steps than usual. Edelgard struggled to match her pace as Byleth took abrupt twists and turns in her retreat to the main staircase. 

“Professor?” she called after her. 

Byleth whisked away down the stairs. Her overcoat ruffled behind her, making her appear larger than she actually was. Edelgard hastily stepped after her, confusion mounting.

“Professor, is something wrong?” 

Byleth stopped suddenly but did not turn to face her. “I’m fine,” she insisted.

Sensing her lie, Edelgard moved to stand before her. Byleth’s head hung low, her eyes downcast. “My teacher, you do not have to hide from me.”

“Sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m…”

Edelgard tilted her head. “Tell me?”

“Are you greeted by everyone with a kiss to your hand?” Byleth asked briskly, refusing to meet her eyes. Though she sounded indifferent, that same edge to her voice remained. 

“It is customary for a high-born woman to be greeted in such a manner,” Edelgard explained, trying to contain her amusement. “I meant to shake her hand, but I suppose Sir Catherine was being courteous.”

“I see.”

Edelgard smiled. “I recall you greeting me in the same manner when you told me you were to be our professor. Did you not know it was a common gesture?”

Byleth crossed her arms. “I happened to notice it while I was among the knights in the Audience Chamber, but I didn’t think it was the standard. I just wanted to be…”

“Nice?” Edelgard couldn’t stop smiling.

Byleth shrugged. 

Edelgard was unable to contain her giggle. “My teacher, you mustn’t let her get under your skin. These are all courtly practices that I’ve grown accustomed to as the Imperial Princess.”

“I didn’t do it because you are royalty.” A shadow crossed Byleth’s features as the cathedral’s bells tolled. “Nevermind this, we should get to class.”

Butterflies found their way into Edelgard’s stomach. Byleth kissed her hand for the mere sake of it? What could that mean? She found herself blushing and shook her head, laughing softly. She kept to her teacher’s side as they made their way down the Reception Hall. She was so over the moon by Byleth’s slight pout and hints of jealousy that she nearly forgot about the mission. 

Lord Lonato’s uprising provided a unique opportunity. Though they would not be facing the rebellion’s leader head-on in the mission, they would be close enough for Edelgard to make her next move. She pondered the possibilities as they exited the Reception Hall. 

“Our next mission will weigh heavy on our reputation as a House,” Edelgard mused. “Working with Sir Catherine is a privilege not many outside the Knights of Seiros have.”

“It’s an opportunity for you and the rest of the students to impress the knights,” Byleth agreed. “I do not understand the mission, though.”

“What do you mean, my teacher?”

They walked leisurely outside, passing neatly trimmed hedges and primped hardwood trees. Cats collected atop a mountain of wooden boxes containing supplies for the monastery yet to be unpacked. Most students were tucked away in their studies now. It was quiet but tranquil. 

“I am not familiar with the workings of the Church. Why would one rise against them?”

Edelgard considered her words, frowning. “There are several reasons one would harbor a vendetta against the Church,” she began carefully. All the while, she was gauging Byleth’s reaction. “Their influence spans all of Fodlan, and they are certainly unforgiving in dealing divine justice to heretics. As for Lord Lonato’s motive… the root of his cause may rest with the fate of his son.”

“His son?”

Nodding gravely, Edelgard said, “He was executed by the Church a few years ago. It had something to do with an assassination attempt.”

“Against who?” 

“I am not certain.”

They arrived at the door before the classroom, and Byleth hesitated. Within, they heard raucous laughter and the occasional thud as the Black Eagles students enjoyed their short-term freedom from Byleth’s lecture. Edelgard smiled, already imagining them freezing and scrambling to their seats once Byleth entered the room. 

“The mission this moon… has a different feel to it,” Byleth muttered. 

“I agree.” Edelgard was surprised to have her feelings mirror Byleth’s. “It’s not often students are asked to join the Knights of Seiros in bringing down the gavel on transgressors.”

“Regardless, I must undertake a more rigorous training program before the day arrives,” Byleth decided brusquely. 

“Do you not think we are ready for such a task?”

“I know we are ready, but I want to be more than ready.” Byleth crossed her arms. “I never thought a teaching job would so often put me back in the battlefield.”

“Is this not what you wanted?” Edelgard suddenly felt afraid. What if Byleth resigned from her position?

“I have no quarrel in drawing my sword and marching to battle,” Byleth stated. Her voice lowered as she added, “I’ve done that my whole life… But there are Black Eagles students that do not want to be on the battlefield. How can I force their hand?”

Edelgard shook her head, placing a reassuring hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “You’re not forcing them. You’re  _ leading _ them, my teacher. The students trust you, and they will follow you because they know you will never lead them astray or harm them intentionally.”

“Edelgard,” Byleth began, but no other words followed. 

She smiled fondly. “Whatever may come, I know you will do what’s in our best interest. I know you won’t fail us.” 

“How can you say that?”

“Because… I trust you.” Edelgard realized the words were true once they left her lips. “Now, it’s your turn to trust me. You’ve already saved me twice. Maybe I can return the favor this time?”

Byleth nodded, opening the door to the classroom. “Together, Edelgard, we will lead the Black Eagles to victory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used “Sir” as a gender-neutral honor for all knights because.... why not? 
> 
> Also, yay for another upcoming battle chapter!


	8. Sins of our Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles march for House Gaspard on a mission to temper the aftermath of Lord Lonato's rebellion. However, the further they venture into enemy territory, the more precarious their situation becomes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING!**  
>  This chapter contains scenes of graphic violence and gore. If you are sensitive to content of this nature, please skip this chapter.

“Scout ahead! Leave no stone unturned. Should you encounter the enemy, you are to ensure they meet a swift end!”

Thunder Catherine’s order whipped through the air, sending her soldier flying into the thicket on horseback. His steed whinnied as it was spurred to charge faster. Frost billowed from its lips, curling around its dark mane and winding through the cold air.

Edelgard watched the knight depart, standing among the Black Eagle students. The air felt heavier as he left. 

“There should have been a rendezvous point with a scout from the vanguard by now,” Hubert muttered under his breath. He glared ahead into the heavily wooded path. 

Unease made itself at home in Edelgard’s stomach. He was right. The Black Eagle House and their knightly escorts marched a great distance into Kingdom territory. Yet, they never met a soul. She felt like a sitting duck.The long branches of the hardwood trees surrounding her reached for her garbs as she stood on the narrow path with Hubert by her side, trying to pull her into the dark. 

“Perhaps the Knights of Seiros are still engaged with the enemy?” Edelgard considered in a whisper. 

Hubert shook his head. “I know you. You can sense it in the air. There’s something wrong.”

Again, Hubert was right. The air was heavy with dread. It clung to their attire, sticking to their skin. No one spoke as they marched through the heavy woods. The only sound to be heard was the dull clangor of armor. Without birdsong or the rustlings of scavenging beasts, it felt like she was suspended in a dream, a dream that would quickly turn into a nightmare.

“The earth we march on is undisturbed,” Hubert added, glaring at his feet. “No vanguard crossed here.”

“I can see that,” Edelgard said. “I share your apprehension, Hubert. However, we cannot make a fuss with Sir Catherine in the lead. You know she will report any resistance to Lady Rhea.”

Hubert’s waxy face wrinkled into a frown. He nodded and said nothing more.

Even the battle-hardened mercenaries were silent. Their typical bouts of gallows humor and pinings for a woman to share a bed with were strangled by the oppressive air. Their silence humbled the other Black Eagles students; they walked alongside Byleth’s battalion without so much as a whisper escaping their lips.

Edelgard watched as Thunder Catherine kept to the forefront of the troops. She was flanked by her remaining knights: two young men with polished lances and milky white armor. They had an arrogant skip in their step as any newly commissioned knights would. 

“How can the Church only lend us two foot soldiers, a single cavalier, and one seasoned knight?” Hubert carried on; the grate to his voice was deepening.

“Lady Rhea showed nothing but confidence in our Professor’s ability. She believes we can handle a simple clean-up,” Edelgard said. “Besides, you know as well as I that Sir Catherine can create a mass grave with one swipe of Thunderbrand.” 

“If you take this task at face-value, I’m inclined to agree with you.” His frown grew deeper. “But I think there’s more to this mission than mere damage control.”

“Sheesh, why’s everyone so on edge?” Caspar barked from the rear. “Aren’t we about to kick ass?”

“Pipe down, will you?” Hubert snapped. “We aren’t here to fight.”

“Well, I’m ready for anything,” Caspar retorted. He flexed his muscles cockily, showing off his polished Fighter attire.

“We are here to ensure nothing goes amiss in the aftermath,” Edelgard explained, voice strained. 

“Anything amiss can meet my fist!” Caspar crowed. No one joined in his laughter. 

The woods grew thicker the deeper they wandered. Shadows cast over the battalion in droves, darkening their already dreary expressions. Edelgard felt the earth beneath her boots toughen as they neared the Oghma Mountains. The stench of leaves and wood left to rot in sitting water began to fill the air as the woods grew thicker. Mercenaries had to squeeze between broad tree trunks in order to remain with the battalion. Mold hugged the dampened bark, radiating a putrid odor. The air was bitingly cold, tearing at the bare skin on Edelgard’s face until it turned pink. 

“Eeriness aside, are you sure this plan of yours will work, My Lady?” Hubert asked in hushed tones. 

A confident smile flickered across her face. “Don’t worry yourself, Hubert. Just remember to keep the letter visible among the wreckage when the time comes.”

“Do you think Lady Rhea will take the bait?” 

“She has no choice. She will either believe it and stay safe, or she will choose not to believe it and be haunted by her potential demise.” Her words were for no one but Hubert. 

Somewhere within his mahogany Monk robes was the red herring they needed to move forward with their plans. After the mishap at the Feast of White Roses, Edelgard knew she could no longer bide time; the opportunity to act was on the horizon, and she was willing to risk everything to achieve it. 

“What is that awful smell?” Dorothea gagged. 

The stench in the air grew more pungent as they proceeded. The shadows solidified within the narrowing path, waiting to welcome the troops into the darkness. Within, something rancid wafted. 

“Professor!” Hubert called out. 

The battalion halted at Byleth’s command. She emerged from the forefront; her mercenaries parted for her with dipped heads. In her eyes, Edelgard saw she shared their apprehension. Her jaw was locked as she bridled her mounting concern. Her mercenaries sensed her growing disquiet and shuffled and shivered with silent distress. 

Not far behind her, Thunder Catherine emerged. Her expression failed to betray any trepidation. She seemed to conquer her fears with an easy smile and an air of confidence. At her side, Thunderbrand gleamed with a red sheen, emboldening her. 

“Is there a problem?” Sir Catherine asked with her hand on her hip. 

“This odor,” Hubert began. “It reeks of Demon’s Breath.”

Confused and anxious murmurs erupted from the mercenaries. 

Byleth silenced them with a glare. “Please explain.”

“Demon’s Breath is a dark art. It is used to conjure a thick fog that cannot be disbanded by any brand of magic or will of the elements.” Hubert’s voice was grave. “Only a seasoned Dark Mage can wield such a power.”

“You mean to say a Dark Mage is just hanging out in these woods?” The scoff came from one of the mercenaries. 

“We are nearing Magdred Way,” Sir Catherine said. “It’s possible that a few rebels could take a post up there in order to defend House Gaspard.”

Edelgard frowned. “A Dark Mage is a valuable asset. I don’t think Lord Lonato would relegate one to guard duty.”

“She’s right,” said Byleth. Her glare grew more intense as it flickered to Catherine. “If this odor proves to be from Demon’s Breath, we have more than a couple soldiers ahead.” 

“Regardless, we must press on. The leading division awaits our support, and we have to cross Magred Way in order to reach House Gaspard. It’s the only way,” Sir Catherine rebutted. 

“I’m not implying that we shouldn’t press forward,” Byleth said, frowning. “We just need to be cautious.”

The women were locked in a stare down. Edelgard stood between them, ready to intervene if one of them broke their composure. She had a feeling the first to break would be Thunder Catherine, but she tried to remain unbiased as she watched the captain and the professor silently fight for dominance. 

“Then, shall we move on?” Catherine suggested. 

Byleth nodded once and returned to the front of her division. Her overcoat ruffled behind her like a living thing. Catherine followed her, offering a smile to the students and a wink to Edelgard as if to say, “I got this.”

Edelgard was not convinced. 

Before the march could resume, a whinny echoed from the thick of the woods. Branches cracked and gave way to a galloping horse. Its sable mane slapped at the leaves, collecting them in its locks. On its back, Sir Catherine’s subordinate clung weakly to the reins. Shocked murmurs rose from the mercenaries as the mare charged forward. Its rider heaved a tug in time to prevent a trample, but that did not stop some men from jumping backward in fright. 

“Soldier!” Sir Catherine snapped. “What’s the meaning of this? Riding up on your division like that… Are you not a knight?”

Edelgard pushed to the front of the battalion. She saw the mare’s wide black eyes and flared nostrils before anything. 

“Something is wrong,” Byleth said. 

The cavalier’s hands trembled as he grappled at the reins. His eyes were dilated as they rolled from face to face, unable to focus. With quivering lips, he babbled something unintelligible.

“Speak up, soldier! What is your report?” Catherine demanded. 

Opening his mouth to speak again, he could only gargle. Edelgard heard Bernadetta’s squeal of horror as a stream of red dribbled from his shivering lip. 

“He’s wounded!” Byleth exclaimed. “Lindhardt, front and center! See to this man.”

Lindhardt hurried forward just as the knight rolled from his horse’s saddle. Sir Catherine moved to catch him, but his dead weight hit the ground with a loud thud. From his back, several arrows protruded. Blood pooled around the entry wounds, soaking the earth. Lindhardt approached him cautiously, pressing his fingers to his neck. 

Edelgard felt like several days passed before Lindhardt looked up and said, “He’s dead.”

Disturbed mutterings bubbled from the mercenaries. Byleth, glaring down at the dead man, shook her head. “I need two volunteers from my mercenaries to take this man back to Garreg Mach.”

From the battalion, two men emerged. Byleth nodded to them, her eyes still not leaving the dead man. “Thank you.”

The men escorted the mare and its fallen rider away from the battalion and back towards the safety of Garreg Mach. The battalion rendered them farewells in wide eyes and slack jaws. A trail of blood followed them into the woods. 

“May the goddess light your path,” Sir Catherine called after them. Then, she turned to the division. Her face was contorted with rage. “You all know what this means. Ahead, at Magdred Way, rests an ambush. Ready your weapons!” 

At first, not a single mercenary stirred. They stared blankly at the knight that barked the order without the inclination to adhere. Sir Catherine grit her teeth. The only clink of a readied weapon came from her two lance-wielding knights. 

“What’s the meaning of this? That was an order!” Sir Catherine snapped. 

“They are not yours to command,” Byleth said coolly. She eyed the captain with an icy glare. 

“Then,  _ command them,” _ Sir Catherine growled through gritted teeth. “One of my men is dead! Now is not the time for stubbornness.”

“We aren’t being stubborn,” one of the mercenaries argued. It was a woman with a stalwart frame. She shoved to the front. Her dark brown eyes drooped with the bags of a hard life. “We are respecting our leader.”

Sir Catherine simmered in silence. Edelgard could see rage blazing in her blue eyes. It pleased her to see a Knight of Seiros so flustered. 

“Byleth,” the stout woman continued, ignoring the fury radiating from Catherine. Her broad shoulders slouched as she spoke with a leaden voice. “Must we march on? This Lord fellow, he has an army, yeah?” She tossed her hand back at the rest of the Black Eagles. “If we continue, these kids will be dragged into battle. We ain’t facing petty thieves no more. These guys, they mean business.” 

Byleth deliberated with a cold stare. Edelgard could see several thoughts flicker across her expressionless face. Her mercenary stood before the battalion, and Edelgard saw her concern mirrored in the several rugged faces of her companions.

“Lord Lonato struck up a militia from the commons in order to supplement his meager forces,” Sir Catherine explained, still tense. “This isn’t a well-trained army; these are just civilians that took up a sword for a cause.”

“Never underestimate those that fight for what they believe in,” Byleth said, glaring at her once more. She nodded to her mercenary. “I understand your misgivings, Cress. However, these students chose to be here, knowing they would see battle. It is their duty, as is mine, to uphold the justice of the Church as long as we remain enrolled in their academy.”

Cress relented with a short sigh. Her eyes found Edelgard’s, and she saw pity in them. “Aye,” she muttered.

“You, and the rest of my mercenaries, are not obligated to the Church. If you don’t support this mission, you can return to the guild,” Byleth said. Her brows furrowed, and Edelgard was surprised to hear a hint of pain in her voice. “But, I will not lie to you. I need all of you now more than ever.”

“Aye.” Cress glanced back at the mercenaries and nodded with understanding. Her eyes met Byleth’s fearlessly. “We will march with you, Byleth.” 

Once the unease settled, Byleth and Sir Catherine led the battalion down the narrow trail. Edelgard felt something stir within her heart as she walked alongside the mercenaries. Their silent understanding and trust in Byleth was something she longed for. The last time she marched to battle with Byleth in command, she resisted the urge to put her faith in her. Now, she wanted to but was stopped by her inner ambition. If she trusted Byleth in the field, what would it mean for their trust outside of it? Would she grow too comfortable? Her mind raced. 

“Kids,” Caspar scoffed under his breath. “These mercenaries still see us as nothing but kids.”

“You are child age, are you not?” Petra asked, confused. 

Caspar glared at her. “That doesn’t matter! I am a fighter—if I am old enough to carry an axe, I am old enough to go to war.” 

“I can’t do this,” Bernadetta whispered. Her eyes glanced around, looking for an escape. 

Petra frowned at Caspar. “You upset her with your loudness. We must be having no troubles.”

As Caspar opened his mouth to retort, Edelgard intervened. “Enough of this! Once again, we must support one another in battle. Our enemies will only get strong as time goes on.”

“It is nothing I, Ferdinand von Aegir, cannot handle,” Ferdinand assured her with a self-impressed grin. 

“That’s not the point, Mr. Noble,” Dorothea scorned. She placed her hand on Bernadetta’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you can do this, Bernie,” she said to her softly. “You have us to rely on too.” 

“You’re not alone,” Edelgard agreed, smiling at Bernadetta. 

“And if anyone tries to hurt us, Professor will come, right?” Bernadetta’s eyes glistened as she looked ahead in Byleth’s direction. 

Edelgard followed her eyes, and nodded once. “Of course. She wouldn’t let any of us fall.” 

“It’s a part of her job, after all,” Hubert added. He was obviously not convinced Byleth would save them out of genuine care. 

Edelgard, however, was unsure of her feelings. She liked to think that Byleth came to their aid out of more than obligation. 

“Ah… I feel a little better now,” Bernadetta murmured. “But… Battle is still cruel.”

“Dammit!” Hubert’s curse nearly caused Bernadetta to jump out of her boots. 

Ahead, Edelgard saw the cause of his upset. The trees looked skeletal. Their once broad trunks hid within a mass of gray haze so that only hints of their shape remained. The branches above were lost to the smoky clouds. It smelled more and more of sulfur. 

“Demon’s Breath,” Edelgard breathed.

The forest was lost to the dark magic. Silhouettes of trees and bushes stood within the fog, looking more like apparitions than plants. It swallowed the front of the battalion, and Byleth along with it. Silence filled the forest. No bird nor beast rustled in the mist. 

From ahead, Byleth shouted, “Draw your weapons!” 

The mercenaries and students obeyed. There was a chorus of arrows shivering in their quivers, swords hissing from their sheathes, and axes clunking from their clasps. Edelgard did not need to see Byleth to know that even in the unnatural fog, she kept her composure. It inspired Edelgard to do the same. She felt the students around her tense. 

“Don’t worry. As long as we have one another, we will win,” Edelgard reassured them. 

As the battalion pressed forward, their steps slowed. Entering the foul-smelling fog humbled their march. Edelgard couldn’t distinguish who or what stood before her as they ventured further into the Demon’s Breath. She imagined walking into the demon’s jaws, surrounded by fangs that eagerly awaited to clamp down on the Black Eagles and feast. 

“Arrows!” someone shouted. 

Piercing the veil of gray, arrowheads glinted menacingly. The fusillade descended with a shrieking whistle, aiming at no one in particular. The intent was to disband and harm the hesitant straggler. Edelgard stood fast, glancing at her classmates. Bernadetta and Lindhardt looked ready to sprint into the fog. 

“Stick together!” Edelgard commanded. An idea saved her from panicking. “Dorothea, ready your Thunder. Hubert, rally to her aid.” 

With outstretched hands, Hubert expelled a dim blue light from his fingertips in Dorothea’s direction. His magical rally infused with her aura, and when she rose her hand to the sky, her Thunder crackled with vengeance. Lightning fractured through the rain of arrows, causing them to tremble and fall uselessly. 

Not all the arrows stopped, however. Ferdinand hissed as one managed to slice against his arm. The battalion of mercenaries took the worst of the blow, having been outside of Thunder’s protection. Edelgard watched some men fall to their knees as iron arrowheads savaged their hearts. 

“We must find the Dark Mage and kill him if we are to be free of the fog,” Sir Catherine hollered. It sounded like she was deeper in the woods than the rest of them. “I will take the left flank. You stay center and to the right.”

Edelgard heard her and her knights footsteps grow more and more distant. 

“She left us!” Bernadetta squealed. “What’ll we do?” 

“What we always do.” Byleth emerged from the fog. The blue light in her eyes seemed colder than normal. She looked… angry. Edelgard shivered. “We will defeat the enemy together.” 

Her assurance quelled Bernadetta’s mounting fear, but only slightly. Edelgard noticed a tremble remained in her fingers as she held her bow. 

“Edelgard, take Hubert, Bernadetta, Caspar, and Ferdinand with you down the center,” Byleth ordered. “Petra, Dorothea and I will keep the right flank secure with the help of the mercenaries. Lindhardt, try to remain within the ranks of both teams and heal when necessary.”

The Black Eagles students nodded their understanding. 

“We don’t know who is leading this ambush, so try not to tackle opponents on your own. We don’t know what they’re capable of,” Byleth said. Then, she took Dorothea and Petra and started for the right. 

The woods of Byleth’s flank were denser and darker than the center path. The center path, however, offered no shelter. As Edelgard left the last leaf of the forest, she found herself standing in the middle of a broad road. Magdred Way. In the fog, she heard the clatter of swords and shouting of men and women engaged in battle. 

“Where is the vanguard?” she wondered aloud. 

The road she walked was bare of damage. It seemed no one walked on its soft sand in at least a few days. The weight of an army of heavily armored knights would leave any road looking trampled. This road looked forgotten. 

“I’m beginning to think there never was one,” Hubert growled by her side. 

“What?” Ferdinand came up behind them, clearly confused. “Preposterous! Lady Rhea herself sent her knights to quash the rebellion.”

“Halt!” a voice from the fog called. “Come any further, and you’ll face the wrath of House Gaspard.” 

Edelgard noticed the shadow of a gangly frame in the fog. Even hidden, she could see the man tremble. “Bernadetta…” she murmured.

Bernadetta watched the silhouette as well. She shook her head. “Oh no…”

“Aim true. He will attack if we get any closer.” 

Pulling back her arrow, Bernadetta prepared to launch her attack. 

“Come no closer!” the man shouted again. “Come closer, and I’ll--Gah!” 

The arrow pierced his chest, silencing him. The soldier rolled forward, slicing through the air with a sword. Edelgard ran to meet him, crashing her axe into his sternum with a sickening crunch. His eyes were frozen in fear as he fell to her feet. As she gazed down at the dead soldier, the air around her felt colder. 

“There’s more!” Caspar cried. 

Edelgard looked up from the corpse as more soldiers ran to the aid of their fallen comrade. They donned the colors of House Gaspard in their armor. Great plates sealed their chests, bearing the sigil of a stallion rearing on its hindlegs. On their shoulders, the silver plates were stained navy blue. They ran with purpose, but their eyes were wide with fear. 

A heavily armored soldier crashed into Edelgard, shoving his spear sloppily at her chest. She moved away with a hiss, only getting a scrape to her flank out of the blow. In retaliation, she brought her axe down on his exposed shoulder. With a crack, the armor gave way to the pressure, sitting limply on the side of his arm. 

“Shit!” the soldier cursed. He jabbed his lance again, catching her upper thigh. 

“Gah!” Blood trickled down her leg from the fresh wound. 

The soldier was slowed by his armor, unable to dodge her return attack. Her axe found the same shoulder again. This time, it penetrated the flesh, cutting into his subclavian artery; from the wound, blood spurted in a fountain. He could only gag as his life’s blood pulsated into the earth.

Nearby, Hubert traded blows with an axe-wielder. The soldier swung wildly, expending his energy twofold in his crazed onslaught. Edelgard watched in horror as the soldier struck Hubert’s leg, knocking him to the ground. He roared in pain. As his attacker raised his axe to deal another blow, strange black boils bubbled from the ground, gurgling. The soldier watched, wide-eyed in terror, as the bubbles rose and burst around him. His wail was drowned out by a sizzling noise as the caustic fluid that exploded onto him ate into his armor and then into his skin. The action was repeated until his flesh peeled away to reveal his bones in the places the dark magic touched him. What remained of his armor melted against his corpse. 

Edelgard ran to Hubert, trying to ignore the stench of the fallen soldier. “Are you okay?” 

Hubert smirked. “Never better. I longed to use my new spell in battle for some time now.”

Offering her hand, Edelgard helped Hubert to his feet again, but he staggered. His hand braced her shoulder as he struggled for balance. A hiss left his clenched teeth as blood rained from his slashed leg onto the ground. 

“Where’s Lindhardt?” Edelgard glanced around fervently for the healer. 

“Likely occupied,” Hubert grunted. “My Lady, lend me a vulnerary? I can heal myself; the wound is not too great.” 

“Of course,” Edelgard murmured. Reaching for her belt, she retrieved a small bottle. Popping the cork off with her teeth, she let the shimmering blue liquid pour onto Hubert’s leg. It shone with the pale light of white magic before clotting. “Better?”

“Thank you, My Lady.” 

Terrified shouts came from behind, sounding like a baying hound. Edelgard turned on her heel to face the cause of the ruckus, only to see Caspar pounding his gauntlet into the stomach of a soldier. The serrated claws jutting from the knuckles of his weapon gouged into the chainmail, coaxing blood to soak the metal. 

Blinded by his assault, Caspar failed to see the oncoming swordsman raring to his ally’s aid. 

“Allow me,” Hubert growled. 

With a flick of his wrist, Miasma conjured from thin air to slither and swarm the second soldier. The swordsman coughed and trembled as the Miasma overwhelmed him. As soon as the dark magic cleared, it reappeared from Hubert’s fingertips and swallowed the soldier. Hollow wails escaped his throat as the blood vessels in his eyes flared. 

“I can’t ebreathe!” he screamed. “Help! Someone, help me!” 

Flailing his sword in the purple matter, he ended up tossing it aside. Clenching at his throat, his knees buckled as he wheezed. He curled up on the frosty grass like a shriveled worm, eyes still bulging as his mouth permanently gaped for air. 

“Nice one,” Caspar praised. He rose from the soldier he bludgeoned, blood dripping from his armored hands. Streaks of red trickled down from his spiked blue hair, striping his face. His wild blue eyes glinted at Edelgard. “Killing these guys is starting to feel pointless,” he admitted. “They really are just armed civilians.”

“Lord Lonato chose to conscript an army of untrained men and women. He must’ve known the consequences of sending these people to battle,” Hubert muttered. 

Edelgard gazed around them, seeing the silhouettes of fallen men and women laying, unmoving, in the fog. The air reeked with Demon’s Breath and metallic blood. Screams and cries chased silence into oblivion. Yet, she was able to grip her axe without a shiver in her fingers. 

“Lord Lonato is convinced he fights for a just cause,” she explained in a whisper. “If you wish to achieve your dreams, sometimes you must be willing to make sacrifices for the greater good.” 

“I’ve never seen such heartbreak from so many people at once,” Caspar rasped, looking away. “They must know they can’t win.” 

“But they haven’t given up,” Edelgard pointed out. “And neither will we.” 

Caspar nodded, smirking as her hand patted his back. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.” 

The three students proceeded in a brisk run down Magdred Way. They managed to reach Bernadetta as she launched an arrow skyward. It pierced the fog, but failed to meet her charging target. Ferdinand rushed to her aid, taking the brunt of the blow from a slashing sword. He grunted in pain, twisting to the side of the sword-wielder. Anger flashed in his amber eyes as a whirl of dust spun at his feet. With the strength of a raging storm, he jabbed his steel lance into the flank of the soldier. Blood spurted from her lips as the head penetrated her ribs. 

“Curse the monster that forced your servitude,” Ferdinand muttered as the soldier fell. 

Bernadetta scurried to Ferdinand’s side, watching the corpse bleed out with wide eyes. “Th-thank you.” 

Edelgard met the students with Caspar and Hubert following close behind. “Are you two alright?” 

Ferdinand and Bernadetta nodded in unison. 

“Let’s go ahead together,” Edelgard suggested. “This fog is getting thicker.”

“That means we are near the source,” Hubert realized with an eager chuckle. He pointed to a black mass within the fog before them. “Those woods… I think the Dark Mage resides there.” 

Caspar crossed his arms. “Let’s take ‘em, then.” 

“We must be cautious,” Edelgard said. “We have yet to face a powerful magic-user.”

“Lady Edelgard, allow me to deal with the mage. I resist most spells,” Hubert said. The crooked grin on his pale face was more sinister than any sneer. 

“I trust you will manage,” Edelgard agreed. “But we will still aid your advance. The mage is likely not alone.” 

“Very well,” Hubert relented. 

The Black Eagles flew to the woods ahead. Beneath their boots, the gray earth collected frost and loose stones, causing their footsteps to echo eerily into the forest. Distant hollers and the clangor of warring weapons followed them. Edelgard felt the fog intensify around them, blinding her to the sight of her own nose. Forced to slow her charge, she breathed uneasily. Despite the chaos around them, the heart of the small woodland was strangled to silence. She barely managed to hear the breaths of the Black Eagles accompanying her. 

_ Snap!  _

Edeglard tensed as a long, hooked nose cut through the fog before her. A pair of black eyes glinted through glassy goggles. The mask crudely mimicked a raven’s face, and a muffled chuckle emanated from it. 

“You found me,” the Dark Mage cooed. Laughter shivered from her leather beak. 

“Look out!” Edelgard cried. 

Balls of eerie light floated around the Dark Mage, illuminating the fog with flashes of purple. The ghastly shine unveiled the faces of more soldiers flanking either side of the mage. With a screech, the magic came in a flurry against Edelgard. The orbs snaked around her limbs, tightening her muscles painfully with an unseen force. A pained wail escaped her lips as the dark magic seared into her skin. 

“Lady Edelgard!” Hubert shouted from somewhere in the fog. 

The orbs of light vanished with a gurgling noise, leaving Edelgard immobile. She tried to launch herself forward at the Dark Mage, but her legs could only twitch painfully. Her lilac eyes glared into the masked mage. Invisible chains seemed to brace Edelgard, making her skin crawl with disgust. “Damn you,” she sputtered. 

A cackle left the Dark Mage. She raised her hand to conjure, but an arrow struck her arm, impaling it. “No!” she shouted. 

Edelgard noticed Bernadetta taking shelter in the dense shrubbery of the woods, shaking like a leaf. She shot another arrow, but the Dark Mage rolled out of the way, sending a bout of Miasma in her direction. Bernadetta screamed as the purple cloud consumed her. 

“Bernadetta, no!” Edelgard tried to come to her aid, but her body remained fettered by the Banshee’s hex. 

Hubert cursed nearby as two soldiers swarmed him, stabbing at him with a lance and slashing with a sword. Caspar was by his side, swinging his gauntlets with fervor. It seemed the enemy knew Hubert’s magic rivalled the Dark Mage’s, for they kept him too engaged to even get _ close  _ to their target. 

It was Ferdinand that came to stand before Edelgard. She watched in surprise as he tossed a wink over his shoulder and charged for the Dark Mage. His Tempest Lance stirred a swirl of dust around his feet. With a shout, he jabbed his lance into the mage, skewering her with a bone-crunching crack. As he drew back his lance, her bowels fell at her feet, soaking the earth. Edelgard thought the Dark Mage would collapse into her own guts.

She thought wrong. 

With a chilling cackle, she tilted her head. Her hot, ragged breath fogged up the goggles of her mask, hiding her black eyes. The balls of light that rendered Edelgard immobile before glowed into existence. They spiralled into Ferdinand with an ear-piercing screech, sending him flying backwards as he failed to resist the magic. His body convulsed on the ground as the orbs constricted him. 

Edelgard gripped her axe, feeling rage swell within her. Her muscles unwound from the binds of the curse, and she smiled. Bursting forward on the balls of her feet, she drew her axe up against the Dark Mage. With a cry, she brought the axe down onto the mage’s masked face. The Dark Mage managed one last cackle before Edelgard struck her again. 

Caspar broke free from the soldiers with Hubert, rushing to Edelgard. “Did you kill it?” he asked. 

Edelgard gazed down at the disemboweled mage, nodding quietly. “I think so.”

“We must eliminate the power of the Dark Seal,” Hubert muttered. Reaching for the black emblem on the mage’s chest, he crushed it in his fist. A wisp of purple escaped between his fingers with a hiss. 

Once the wisp dissipated, the fog began to clear. Edelgard gazed around in wonder as she was able to see again. The trees came into view, and at their roots lay the bodies of the slain soldiers of House Gaspard. Blood fertilized the grass, steaming into the cool air. Between the trees, Edelgard could see the shapes of the warring left and right flanks. The sunlight was gray among the overcast sky, unable to warm the chilling air. 

“Ah, yes, now that we’ve settled the fog business, can someone help me up?” Ferdinand grunted, still crumpled on the ground. 

Edelgard came to his side, rubbing his shoulder as she knelt beside him. She felt the tightness of his muscles and frowned. “The curse of Banshee is still restraining you,” she said. “Give it time.”

“Hm, shall I take a nap?’ Ferdinand suggested dryly. 

Edelgard smiled. “Thank you for helping me back there.” 

Ferdinand’s eyes widened, but he shared her smile. “Of course. I can’t let you get killed before I am able to properly defeat you in a duel.” 

She snorted, standing. “You ruined it.”

“Where’s Bernadetta?” Caspar asked. 

A soft rustle came from the nearby bushes, followed by a whimper. Edelgard followed the noise, feeling her heart rise to her throat. Pushing away the branches, she could Bernadetta curled up in a fetal position. Her eyes failed to focus as they skimmed around at nothing in particular. 

“Bernadetta?” Edelgard whispered. 

“The magic disturbed her,” Hubert guessed, pinching his chin. “The attack that struck her appeared to be Miasma, but that spell is too weak to curse her in this way.” 

Edelgard shook her head. “This isn’t a curse, Hubert,” she murmured softly. Her sharp eyes raked over the remaining students. “Hubert, take Caspar and Ferdinand--when he’s ready--and go on ahead. Make sure no soldiers come into the forest.” 

Hubert nodded once and left with Caspar. 

Getting on her knees, Edelgard stroked the mess of purple hair back from Bernadetta’s forehead, which was glistening with a cold sweat. Inaudible whines escaped Bernadetta’s trembling lips. The raw fear in her gray eyes was hauntingly familiar to Edelgard. 

“Bernadetta,” she murmured calmly, “you did great out there. I’m so proud of you.” 

Bernadetta’s eyes found her own. She shook. 

“I know what you’re feeling is scary, but you can get through this.”

Bernadetta nodded. 

“Tell me what you need,” Edelgard coaxed softly. 

“I… want to go home.” Tears pooled in her eyes. 

Edelgard silently cursed the Church of Seiros as she watched Bernadetta become consumed by fear. “We will. We will all go home together, but you must stand first.” 

Bernadetta hesitantly rose to her shaky legs, bracing herself against Edelgard. Her breath came quick as she glanced around wildly at the gored corpses of soldiers. 

“Don’t look at them,” Edelgard murmured. “Just focus on me.” 

Bernadetta clung to Edelgard as she guided her away from the bloody forest in the direction Hubert and the others went. Without the fog impeding her vision, the end felt tangible. They would get out of this. Together. 

“Edelgard!” Lindhardt’s voice echoed through the trees. He ran to them, panting heavily. Blood stained his robes, but it was not his own. He reached for Bernadetta. “Hubert explained everything. I can take care of her now.” 

Edelgard nodded, entrusting Bernadetta to Lindhardt. “Keep her out of harm’s way. Do your best not to engage the enemy.” 

Lindhardt nodded as he offered his shoulder to Bernadetta. His mouth was stretched in a grave frown. “I understand.”

Leaving them in the shelter of the woods, Edelgard stepped out into the road once more. Her heart dropped as she witnessed the calamity of the fray. Hubert, Caspar, and Ferdinand were joined by Petra and Dorothea, and they stood before a wave of soldiers brandishing their weapons. Behind the front, a man sat upon a pale stallion. His armor glinted like silver fire in the sunlight. Streaks of hair, whitened by age, spilled from his helmet to rest at his shoulders. His face was worn by time and torture, sagging in a permanent frown. 

“Lord Lonato!” Sir Catherine emerged from the left flank. “By order of the Central Church of Seiros, I command you to lay down your weapons and surrender!” 

From his steed, Lord Lonato raised his silver lance and pointed it at Sir Catherine. “I only accept judgment from the Goddess herself. I will never surrender to you nor any demon of the Central Church.”

“You still wish to fight? So be it.” Sir Catherine pointed Thunderbrand at Lord Lonato. The blade sizzled with red sparks. “You will meet the Goddess for judgment sooner than you realize.”

“I do not fear judgment,” Lord Lonato said. “The only one that should fear for their sins is  _ you, _ Thunderstrike Cassandra.” He waved his lance across his soldiers. “Go now, for Christophe, and for the justice of all that witch killed!” 

The soldiers marched forward. The lance-wielders at the front were first to draw their weapons, moving forward in a phalanx. 

Edelgard joined the rest of the students, facing the onslaught with wide eyes. She gripped her axe in preparation to strike, but with a clap of thunder, a bolt of red lightning stopped the charging troops. A cloud of dust churned up from the earth to overwhelm the collapsing bodies. Sir Catherine sent sparks flying with every swing of her sword; each time, the blade burned white hot with arcane magic. 

The first rank of soldiers fell as electricity struck their skin, conducted by their armor. They were replaced by another rank of lance-wielding soldiers that charged with more urgency. Some managed to crash into Sir Catherine while others fell to the might of Thunderbrand. 

Another whistle sounded as a storm of arrows rained from the sky. “Dorothea! Hubert!” she cried, watching as the sun was swallowed by the fullisade. “Again, like last time!” 

With a crackle of lightning, Dorothea’s Thunder disturbed the arrows. The singed remnants fell from the sky, creating a mist of ash. Edelgard charged through it, axe raised, bringing it down upon an archer as he scrambled to load his bow. It only took one blow to his skinny arm to lop it off. The archer fell backward with a shriek. As his limb went flying past Edelgard, she was stabbed by a sword from another soldier. It dug into her shoulder from behind, twisting. 

“Argh!” she screamed. 

Then, a hiss and a gag. Edelgard glanced behind her to see a pair of familiar, cold blue eyes. “Professor,” she breathed. 

Byleth retrieved her sword from the soldier's neck, frowning. “Edelgard,” she murmured brusquely. 

The blood that streamed from her wounded shoulder waned as Byleth poured a vulenary onto it. “I got your back,” she said. 

Edelgard nodded. “And I got yours.” 

Soldiers swarmed them from both sides. Edelgard lunged first, cracking her axe against a lance-user’s chest armor. The impact stunned the other, but the soldier proceeded with their lance, striking her flank with force. She gnashed her teeth down to prevent herself from screaming in pain. The lance came again, but she broke the attack with a swing of her axe, forcing the soldier to bury his weapon into the ground instead of her stomach. As he tried to pull his lance free, she dragged her axe up and across his face, sending blood squirting from his split jaw.

Behind her, she heard the hiss and clatter of battling swords. Byleth parried the other’s attack with a swing of her sword, effortlessly cutting into their arm. The warring swordsman hissed, lunging again with surprising speed, scraping the blade across Byleth’s armored bustier. 

With a grunt, Edelgard spun and brought her axe down against the swordsman’s side, chopping into his flesh. His agonized wail died with a slew of meek coughs as she tore her axe from his caved ribs. 

Byleth raised her hand, grimacing, expelling Fire from her fingertips. The blazing ball crashed into a charging axe-user, singing his flesh. He shrieked as flames licked at his flesh, cauterising the wounds as they were made. Skin fell from his exposed limbs as the adrenaline in his blood commanded his final gambit. He brought down the axe as Byleth prepared her next strike, digging into her shoulder. 

“Professor!” Edelgard cried out. 

Glaring at the burning man, she sent her own Fire to chase his last breath of life away. The reek of burning flesh sealed his fate, and he crumpled onto the ground, blackened to a crisp. 

Edelgard brought her vulenary out from her belt loop.  _ I only have one left after this, _ she realized. Popping the remedy, she let it pour into the hemorrhaging shoulder wound. Byleth hissed, lurching forward as the white magic filled the gash; a thin clot formed, but only partially. Blood seeped slowly, trickling down to her chest like beads of red dew. 

“He got you good,” Edelgard remarked. 

“This is nothing. We make a good team.” Byleth had to lean down for Edelgard to tend to her wound, but she rose back to her full height once more when it was finished. “Thank you.” 

Edelgard smiled. “Anytime.” 

Shouting rallied from the enemy ranks as more soldiers charged forward. Edelgard and Byleth exchanged a nod and readied their weapons to meet them. 

She stole a moment to see the other Black Eagles on the battlefield. Dorothea launched her Thoron in a blast of blue electricity, and Petra followed each spell with a swift slash of her sword. Caspar and Ferdinand muscled through the ranks as Hubert kept the fresh waves at bay with his dark magic. _ We  _ all _ make a good team.  _

“Edelgard, on your right!” Byleth’s shout preceded a blast of fire. It struck a soldier just as he was about to stab his lance into Edelgard’s side.

Edelgard glared, finishing him with an axe to the head. She followed by sending flames flying from her fingers at a swordsman slashing at Byleth. Byleth dealt the final blow by stabbing into his chest. 

Adrenaline filled her as she fought, fueling her movements and her mind with strength and courage. Yet, she felt her power wane. This battle seemed to be never-ending. With one wave of troops slain, another appeared. Her breath grew ragged as she continued to wield her axe. It seemed heavier now; every blow she dealt brought her whole body down with it. 

“Trade with me,” Byleth ordered. 

“What?”

Byleth tossed her sword to Edelgard, she caught it, already feeling relief at the weight of the new weapon. Handing her axe to Byleth, she felt the dull ache in her arms wane. 

Axe in hand, Byleth traded blows with a soldier using a lance. The lance was weak to the heavy impact of the axe. Byleth ended up severing the handle and dragging the axe across the soldier’s chest. 

Edelgard met a swordsman eagerly. The soldier crossed swords with her, lip curled, and the blades trembled between them. Edelgard faked out her opponent, leaning in only to duck away, and collided blades with him again, sending sparks flying. They danced, crashing swords and slicing at one another. 

Then, a roaring fire burned into the soldier's back. He cried in agony, falling forward, and Edelgard obliged his surrender by shoving her sword into his neck. 

Byleth came to her side, offering the axe back. “This is yours,” she said. “The axe isn’t taking to me.” 

Edelgard laughed breathlessly. “It knows its owner.” She traded back the sword. “I appreciate the break.”

Byleth nodded. 

Around them, the field thinned. It grew quieter as more and more of House Gaspard’s militia fell. Bodies lay in grotesque shapes, staring at nothing with faces frozen in horror. Arrows and broken weapons littered Magdred Way, forgotten tokens of their fallen owners. 

Only one rank of soldiers remained, and they stood before Lord Lonato, shouting with zeal. Sir Catherine faced them. Her pearl white armor was left unsullied by blood, even as the battle neared its end. Thunderbrand dripped with red rubies that soaked the cold earth in riches. Sweat glistened on her brow, but her icy blue eyes were unbothered by the curses and spits coming off Lord Lonato’s soldiers. 

“I will send your head back to that witch,” Lord Lonato promised, spittle spattered from the white whiskers on his lips. 

Sir Catherine chuckled. “Let this be a lesson to all that point their sword at Lady Rhea. No one will leave here today alive.” 

Her proclamation was met with the enraged cries of Lord Lonato’s soldiers. He pointed his lance at Sir Catherine, and the battalion swept forward in a flurry of armor and iron weapons. They charged her, pushing her back from their lord, all the while crying out their devotion for House Gaspard. 

Lord Lonato was left with a trio of heavily armored knights, all bearing polished weapons and full helmets. A flash of red flickered against his face as he watched Thunderbrand slay his battalion mercilessly, but he never once flinched nor winced. 

Byleth and Edelgard regrouped with the Black Eagles. Dirt and blood smeared across their faces and clothes, and their eyes were wide with the heat of battle. Byleth, however, remained collected as she raked her gaze over each of her students. 

“Where’s Bernadetta?” Byleth demanded. 

“With Lindhardt in the woods,” Edelgard replied. “She… grew too tired. I couldn’t force her to continue in her condition.” 

Byleth stared at Edelgard for what seemed like an eternity before she finally nodded. Her expression seemed to soften. “Your insight continues to impress me. Thank you for considering her.” 

“Of course.” 

“I will go to her and see how she fares,” Byleth decided. She patted Edelgard’s shoulder once. “I leave my mercenaries and the rest of the students to you, Edelgard. Do  _ not _ engage Lord Lonato. Leave him to Sir Catherine.” She hesitated before departing and turned, gazing at all of her students. “I apologize for what happened here today. It was not supposed to be this way.” 

“War is an unpredictable beast,” Ferdinand said graciously. “We must adapt and overcome.” 

“Yes, you need not apologize to us, my teacher,” Edelgard agreed softly. “This could not be helped.” 

Byleth considered their words as Thunderbrand continued to flash its red light against their faces. Thunder crackled in the air, followed by screams. Some of the soldiers broke ranks, thinking the Black Eagles were easy prey. They abandoned their charge against Sir Catherine and turned against the students. 

“You can handle them,” Byleth said, resolute. “I’ll return to you soon.”

Though Byleth addressed all the students as she spoke, Edelgard felt that the words were meant for her. Her heart felt full. She watched Byleth run towards the forest where Bernadetta and Lindhardt hid, feeling a fond smile on her face. Byleth trusted her.

“What shall we do, Lady Edelgard?” Hubert prompted. 

“We continue to fight,” Edelgard said. Her resolve grew stronger as she stood among her classmates. “This battle is nearly over. We can’t stop now.” 

“Here, here!” Ferdinand cheered. 

“Fighting with you gives me great joy,” Petra said. She turned her sword on the impending wave of soldiers. 

“Let’s finish this,” Caspar hissed. 

Drawing up her axe, Edelgard met the incoming soldiers with a yelled. By her side, Caspar threw himself into the melee, swinging his muscular arms into them with his lips curled back in a snarl. Petra whirled into the fray; her sword glinted lethally in the light as she cut into unaware soldiers with the grace of a dancer performing on stage. Ferdinand collided his lance against another’s, grinning all the while. Blasts of magic whistled around them as Hubert and Dorothea joined forces. Together, they painted the air with purple and blue and filled it with screams. 

From the hill, Lord Lonato’s horse whinnied, rearing on its hind legs. His three remaining knights preceded the final charge, running forth into the warring soldiers. Their weapons pined for Sir Catherine, and she met them with an eager grin. Lord Lonato charged next. His stallion’s mane whipped in the wind like spools of liquid silver. He aimed his lance for the knights accompanying Sir Catherine, impaling one with ease. The lance shoved into his stomach as if he was nothing but a fish caught on a pike. 

“He’s terrifying,” Edelgard murmured. 

“I can take him,” Caspar insisted. He was panting manically as adrenaline seized his lungs. His lips were peeled back to reveal his gums in a crazed grin. “This is child’s play.”

Around them, the few soldiers the Black Eagles engaged were already reduced to corpses, laying at their feet. Caspar’s bloodied gauntlets dripped with red. Edelgard saw in his eyes that he longed for bodies to whet his appetite. 

“Stand down, Caspar,” Edelgard warned, retrieving her axe from the guts of a fallen soldier. 

“I’ll make Professor proud,” he vowed in a growl. 

“Caspar, that was an order!” Edelgard snapped. 

“Caspar, wait!” Dorothea cried out.

Caspar launched himself into the battalion that accompanied Lord Lonato. His body rippled with every blow he dealt as his muscles stretched taut against his skin. Bloodcurdling wails followed his wake as his gauntlets pierced through narrow fissures of armor to lacerate exposed flesh. Soldiers fell to their knees before him. 

Yet, with every blow he dealt, he took one in exchange. Blood seeped from his wounds as blades collided into his swinging arms and spears stabbed at his legs. Edelgard ran to his aid, cursing, axe swinging, cutting through a soldier with frightened eyes; his blood soaked the earth as she retracted the axe head from his stomach. 

The stench of blood and expelled body fluid filled the air, making her eyes water. Though the haze of Demon’s Breath had long since faded, she was lost to the fog of war. She could only think about Caspar as she cut through soldier after soldier. He was somewhere in the mass of battling bodies, thinking he could take down a Lord on his own. 

Caspar hollered, and Edelgard found him jumping out of a crowd of soldiers. Flashes of reflected sunlight rolled off his armor as he tore after Lord Lonato. Raising his spiked gauntlet, he drew back to prepare his punch. 

The punch never landed.

With a deafening crunch, Lord Lonato jabbed his massive shield at the boy, catching his chin and sending him tumbling backwards. Caspar splayed before the Lord in the grass, gagging between gulps of breath as he clutched at his windpipe. An angry purple blemish formed against his jugular, spreading from his inflamed jaw. 

Lord Lonato directed his steed toward Caspar, armor rattling, and raised his silver lance. The horse snorted upon Caspar’s contorted visage. 

“Enough of this, Lord Lonato!” Catherine protested. Her Thunderbrand crackled with red sparks as she readied her blade. With a slash, she sent angry red lightning bolts to execute the remaining soldiers standing between them. “He’s just a boy!”

“So was my son,” Lord Lonato murmured. 

A feral cry sounded from Caspar as the tip of the lance was buried into his abdomen with conviction. Dark blood welled up from the wound to baste the metal spear as it dug deeper. Lord Lonato watched as Caspar grappled at the head of his lance, trying in vain to push it away. 

The old Lord’s eyes were glazed over with resignation. “May your untimely death save the other child soldiers that monster deploys,” Lord Lenato whispered hoarsely. 

“Bastard!” Catherine hollered. She charged for Lord Lonato, only to stop as a streak of black impeded her. 

Edelgard froze as she saw the swift shadow race across the battlefield like a phantom escaping the sun and returning to the night. She whispered in horror, “Professor.”

Byleth tore across the field, her steel blade shining menacingly. Even from afar, Edelgard could see the ghostly glow of her blue eyes. She moved with a quickness that seemed inhuman. 

Lord Lonato could only look up before he was dismounted by a blast of Fire to the chest. The flames caught his steed’s mane, spooking it. The stallion reared back, neighing in fright as the fire spread. Lord Lonato rolled backward onto the ground, spitting a curse as his horse fled, bucking and kicking as it tried in vain to shake off the spreading embers. Lord Lonato rose to his feet just in time to engage Byleth. Byleth brought her sword down against his shield, her eyes burning like blue flames. 

Edelgard jumped over the electrocuted corpses to Caspar, panting heavily. His lips trembled as he gripped at his wound. Tears rolled down from the corners of his eyes, removing the dirt and blood from his boyish face. Blood pooled on his stomach, hot and steaming in the cold air, and Edelgard felt her throat go dry. 

“It’s going to be okay,” she told him. Shakily, she brought her last vulenary to his aid, pouring the remedy into his wound. It shone with white light. When the light vanished, some of the blood was gone, but it was unable to clot the wound completely. Caspar groaned, clutching the injury again with clenched teeth. “Be strong now, Caspar.” 

Sir Catherine joined her, staring down at the wounded student with a frown. “It’s deep, but the vulenary bought us some time.”

Edelgard watched as more blood rose from the stab wound, unconvinced. “We need Lindhardt,” she said.

“Take this for now,” Sir Catherine said. She tossed a vulenary at Edelgard.

“Thank you.” Edelgard tended to Caspar once more. Sweat dripped from her brow as she watched him struggle. His face grew pale as his eyes screwed shut. 

“She fights like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Sir Catherine muttered, disturbed, as she stared at Byleth.

Every clatter of Byleth’s blade against Lord Lonato’s armor sounded like a thunder clap. It boomed across the field with vengeance. Each blow sent Lenato sliding backwards; his heels plowed deep into the soft earth as he braced the impact. The fire magic from before blackened his silver armor; the heat softened the material, so it gave to the blows from Byleth’s sword. 

Lord Lonato’s lance penetrated the air, hissing briskly, retaliating against Byleth. His mouth twisted into a grimace as Byleth continued to evade his attacks. “What are you? Some kind of demon conjured by that witch?”

Byleth answered with another slash of her sword. Every strike thundered across the field with vengeance. Edelgard caught herself holding her breath as she watched her duel. Embers flickered from her fingers as Byleth prepared her black magic. 

“Edelgard!” Hubert arrived, accompanied by Dorothea and Ferdinand. “Caspar, he’s?”

“He’ll live, but he’s in bad condition,” Edelgard said, still watching Byleth. 

“I can help,” Dorothea murmured. “My white magic isn’t as polished as Lindhardt, but… it’s something.” Crouching beside Caspar, she smiled sadly. “Bit off more than you can chew again, hm?”

“Shall we help her?” Ferdinand suggested as he watched Byleth parry with Lord Lonato.

“No,” Sir Catherine came to stand beside them. “Let this happen.”

Edelgard glared at Sir Catherine with suspicion. The way she watched Byleth was unnerving. It reminded her of Lady Rhea’s gaze… evaluating.

The clattering got louder. Byleth did not fight like an unhinged demon revelling in fury. She fought with the wrath of a god. Edelgard longed to run to her, fearing if Byleth remained in this frenzy that she would never return. 

“Professor!” she cried. To her horror, the silver lance dug into Byleth’s abdomen. Edelgard moved to run, but Sir Catherine clasped a firm hand on her shoulder, holding her back. She shoved at the knight. “Let me go! She’s hurt!” 

Blood dripped from the puncture wound in Byleth’s stomach. Her expression remained eerily unaffected by the pain. Lord Lonato’s lips trembled with horror as he dug his weapon in further, but garnered no cry of pain from his opponent. 

Shouting, Byleth drew up her sword, bringing it down on the lance’s wooden handle. With a crunch, it snapped. The lance head remained burrowed into her body, gouging blood out of her, but as she swung her sword again, a bright orb engulfed her body. Edelgard winced at the light. 

“It can’t be…” She heard Sir Catherine murmur. 

As the light faded, Edelgard’s heart stopped. Radiating from Byleth’s body she thought she saw a familiar sigil. No, how could it… But as soon as it appeared, it was gone. The light was no more. The lance head was now on the ground, and the wound that gored Byleth vanished.

“A Crest,” Sir Catherine whispered, eyes wide with awe. 

“Damn you!” Lord Lonato yelled. His face was wrought with fright. 

Byleth rushed forward, bringing down her sword on his armor, sending sparks flying. She struck again and again, eyes blazing. An ear-piercing ring sounded, making Edelgard squint with pain. The ring ceased with a shattering crack and an adamant barrage exploded from the sword. Pieces of steel rained onto the grass as the blade broke. Panting, Byleth stared down at the severed sword with an expression as cold as ice.

Lord Lonato turned to make a retreat, but before he could even get one step away, Byleth sent a cascade of fire to greet him. He cried, falling backward into the blood-soaked earth. Byleth followed him down, bringing the broken blade to his face. Cries of agony echoed across Magdred Way. Lord Lonato’s face took the crude edge of the sword repeatedly. Blood and bits of flesh splashed up onto Byleth as she furiously brought down her shattered weapon onto his face. 

“Let go of me,” Edelgard hissed, pushing Sir Catherine away. 

“Lady Edelgard!” Hubert gaped at her incredulously. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

Edelgard shook her head. “She won’t hurt me.”

Hubert frowned, shifting a weary glance at Sir Catherine. Then, he grabbed Edelgard’s hand. “Fine, go if you must.” He squeezed her hand, and she felt the paper of a parcel against her palm. Hubert’s eye glinted meaningfully. “Be careful.” 

So consumed by Byleth, Edelgard nearly forgot about the letter. She squeezed Hubert’s hand, carefully weaseling the red herring into her sleeve. She left for Byleth. To her horror, she was still bringing the broken sword down on Lord Lonato’s face. No more cries left the man. Only the sound of steel stabbing flesh remained. 

“Professor,” Edelgard murmured. She placed her hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “He’s dead.”

Byleth flinched, dropping her broken sword with a hiss. Her palms were red from the pressure of gripping the hilt for so long, and her knuckles were stained white. She remained sitting atop Lord Lonato’s chest, breathing heavily as she gazed down at his gored, unrecognizable face. Bits of flesh and bone littered his white hair as it splayed out into the grass like freshfallen snow. 

“Professor?” 

Byleth stood soundlessly. When she faced Edelgard, streaks of blood marred her pale face. Her eyes were distant, gazing into a different place at a different time. Edelgard shuddered. How could one woman do this? Her eyes slid passed Byleth again to look upon Lord Lonato, but the butchery was too great, and she could not look for long. 

“It’s okay now,” Edelgard whispered. “You did it. You protected Caspar, you protected all of us.”

Byleth did not look at her, she only panted quietly. Frost billowed from her lips to swirl around her bloodied face. 

Edelgard frowned. Hesitantly, she closed the distance between them, bringing her hand up to Byleth’s face. She flinched from her touch, blinking out of a trance. “Edelgard?” she rasped. 

“I’m here.”

Byleth shut her eyes, bringing her hand up to hold Edelgard’s. Slowly, she seemed to remember where she was and what she was doing. Sighing, Byleth glared across the field. “It’s finally over.”

“Yes, it is.” Edelgard pulled her hand away, moving to Lord Lonato’s body. Glancing behind her, she saw that Byleth refused to turn around. With haste, she deposited the letter into Lord Lonato’s belt. She played it off by grabbing Byleth’s broken sword. “Shall we forge this?” she asked. 

Byleth shook her head. “It’s not worth it.”

Sir Catherine and the Black Eagles students came to meet them. All shared a look of disgust when they regarded Lord Lonato’s mangled face. 

“The rebellion died with Lord Lonato,” Sir Catherine announced. “Let us return to Garreg Mach.” 

“If we clashed with Lord Lonato, then who did the vanguard meet?” Byleth asked. 

“What became of them is not our concern. With Lord Lonato defeated, their purpose is moot,” Sir Catherine said.

Edelgard and Hubert exchanged a suspicious glance.

“What shall we do with the body?” Byleth asked. 

“Burn it.” Sir Catherine approached Lord Lonato’s corpse. Her cold expression rivalled Byleth’s. “The fate of all heretics is the flame.” Her boot kicked gently at Lord Lonato’s side, as if he was fresh game instead of a dead man. Her eyes flashed. “What’s this?”

Bending down, Sir Catherine retrieved the letter from Lord Lonato’s belt. Without hesitation, she broke the seal and skimmed over the text. Her expression paled. 

Byleth came to her side. “Sir Catherine, what is it?”

“Burn him,” Sir Catherine growled, gritting her teeth. “Burn him, I say!” 

Frowning, Byleth turned to the corpse. From her fingertips, embers swirled. Edelgard stood beside her, hiding her grimace as her pale hair framed her face, and sent fire raining down on Lord Lonato. Inside, she felt her heart race. The letter, would it work?

As flames consumed Lord Lonato’s body, Sir Catherine stood over him. The angry red light played upon her face, making her rage look more severe. “May his ashes be cursed by the Goddess,” she spat. Turning to the students and Byleth, she held up the letter. “It contains an assassination plot.”

“For who?” Byleth asked. 

“The archbishop herself… Lady Rhea.” 


	9. Whispers in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhausted by the aftermath of the Battle at Magdred Way, the Black Eagles set up camp in a nearby forest. A mysterious entity pays Edelgard a visit in the cover of night.

Fire flickered within the woods, casting shadows to dance against the broad oak trees. The flames licked at a hare as it rotated on a skewer. Its skin cracked against the heat, roasting. Though the scent of fresh-cooked meat filled the air, no one seemed eager to dine. The Black Eagles students huddled around the fire, their faces drooping with fatigue like wax melting off a candle. Edelgard was no exception. Her body ached from the battle at Magdred Way, so much so she dared not stand to greet Sir Catherine as she joined them. 

Sir Catherine’s cheeks grew rosier as the night went on. Whatever spirit resided in her leather flask caused her usual swagger to sway. Her debonair smile glowed in the night. “Y’all look so glum, and what for? We won! We should celebrate!” 

“Our apologies, Sir Catherine,” Edelgard said. “We are too tired to join you.” 

Laughing, Sir Catherine tossed back her flask and gulped with vigor. “Ah, yeah, I remember my first  _ real _ battle. I thought I could sleep for a moon after it finally ended!” 

Patience waning, Edelgard struggled to hide her annoyance as Sir Catherine plopped down on a fallen log, joining them. Beside her, Ferdinand fought to keep his eyes open. 

“Sheesh,” Sir Catherine muttered. “You kids really  _ are _ wiped.” 

Edelgard rose, her face twisting in agitation. “Perhaps you should join the mercenaries?” she suggested hotly. “They would surely be honored to oblige your company.” 

“And be denied the loveliness of your presence?” Sir Catherine smirked. “If Her Highness wishes so, I will leave.”

Glaring, Edelgard nodded once. “I do wish it so. We are all very tired. It’s been a long day.” 

Loftily, Sir Catherine stood, chuckling. “Say no more, Princess. I’ll be on my way.” With a slight lean to her step, she left for the next campfire, where mercenaries laughed and passed around a liquor flask of their own. 

Sighing with relief, Edelgard gazed at the rest of the students. Ferdinand finally surrendered to sleep, resting his chin on his palm as he sat on the log. Dorothea and Petra shared a blanket, leaning back together against another log as they slept before the fire. Bernadetta seemed to be wide awake, occasionally moving to rotate the roasting hare on the fire. Hubert stewed in silence beside Edelgard, sitting as still as a statue. They all remained in uniform, for there was no nearby river to wash at. Whatever water they had was used sparingly to clean their faces. The stench of blood still lingered in the air.

“I’m going to go check on Caspar,” she murmured. 

Hubert nodded. “I’ll be here.”

“Dinner should be done soon!” Bernadetta called after her. 

Edelgard pushed through the bushes, away from the campfire, and followed the ghostly white light emanating from the darkness of the forest. The night air nipped at her face, cold and unwelcoming. Her breath escaped her lips in frosty plumes as she ventured further away from the warmth of the flames. The white light drowned the orange glow of a smaller campfire. It radiated from Lindhardt’s hands as he expelled his magic. On the receiving end, Caspar rested on a bear pelt, bare-chested; with every flicker of healing magic, his face contorted. 

“Watch it!” Caspar snapped. “That burns.”

“If you weren’t so bullheaded, you wouldn’t be going through this in the first place,” Lindhardt quipped. His pale face glistened with sweat as the strain of using his magic taxed his body. 

Byleth stood over them, arms crossed, glaring. When Edelgard arrived, she glanced up and nodded. 

“How’s he doing?” Edelgard asked. She went to Lindhardt’s side, eyeing Caspar’s wound. 

Lindhardt sighed. “He’s sadly getting back to normal, if you couldn’t tell by his constant complaining.”

“Damn right I’m complaining! Since when does healing magic hurt this bad?” He growled through gritted teeth. He arched his back as the white light penetrated deeper into his body, groaning. 

“It’s a deep wound,” Lindhardt said, peeved. “It’s bound to hurt no matter how experienced the healer is.”

As the magic faded, Edelgard was able to get a better look. The gash that gouged the side of his abdomen glared angrily at her. Though his flesh mended within, the outside of it remained swollen and bloody. No new blood seeped from the injury, but if Caspar moved too abruptly, it would certainly open once more. 

“You’re lucky Professor was there to save you,” Lindhardt went on. 

Caspar frowned, looking away with a pained expression. “I could’ve beat him. I just didn’t time it right.”

“You are foolish to say such a thing,” Edelgard scorned. “Lord Lonato outclassed all of us in battle. You could never take on someone like him alone.”

“You mean like you did when you took on that Kostas guy?’ Caspar retorted. 

Edelgard’s face flushed. She opened her mouth to argue but realized she lacked the energy. She sighed. “Yes, you’re right. It was exactly like that,” she admitted. She felt Byleth’s gaze on her as she continued. “Alas, I learned from my mistake. You should do the same. What will happen when the Professor is no longer around to save us?”

Caspar sucked in a sharp breath of air as Lindhardt resumed his healing. “When that day comes,” he grunted, “I’ll be strong enough to kill anyone.”

“You’re hopeless.” Lindhardt rolled his eyes.

“The real lesson to be learned is that when you are given an order, it should be followed,” Byleth said. Her voice was harsher than usual. 

Frowning, Caspar yielded with a nod. 

“If you all continuously fail to adhere to commands, someone is going to wind up dead,” she added coldly. 

“Professor, it was my fault, you mustn't get mad at him,” Edelgard said, gazing at her. “I let him get out of my sight and fight Lord Lonato alone. I--”

“Enough. I do not wish to speak on the matter further.” Byleth shook her head. 

“I don’t need you to defend me, Edelgard,” Caspar said. “I messed up. Okay?”

Frustrated, Edelgard failed to meet Caspar’s gaze. 

“I’m not mad,” Byleth murmured. “I was… something else.”

“What are you talking about?” Caspar looked at her like she suddenly grew a second head. 

Byleth‘s brows pinched together as thought stole her. “When I heard your cry from across the battlefield, I knew I didn’t have much time. This cold, disturbing feeling grew inside me… I didn’t know what to make of it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, as if distress would bleed from her nostrils. “I thought I would lose you.”

“You felt fear, my teacher,” Edelgard murmured. Did she not understand even the most primal of emotions? 

“Fear,” Byleth repeated the word carefully as if it had new meaning. She stared down at Caspar, nodding slowly. “I feared for you.” It was more of a realization than a statement.

Caspar blushed and mashed his palms into his face. “Come on, Professor, it wasn’t that bad.”

“But it was,” Byleth said, frowning. 

Edelgard breathed shakily. Seeing Byleth so disturbed by Caspar’s near-death cast a new light on the enigmatic professor. She felt fear just like anyone else, yet… The memory of her blazing eyes and godlike wrath was still fresh in Edelgard’s mind. She couldn’t bring herself to look Byleth in the eye. 

“You almost died too, my teacher.” The words left Edelgard’s mouth before she could think. 

“Yes, I saw that as well,” Lindhardt muttered, stroking his glowing hand against Caspar’s wound. “You were stabbed. Then, there was a flash of light. I am almost certain it was the power of a Crest that saved you, Professor.”

“A Crest?” Byleth echoed, confused. 

Edelgard narrowed her eyes. How could a teacher employed by the Church of Seiros not know of Crests? “You never cease to confound me, Professor,” Edelgard whispered. 

“A Crest is powerful, arcane magic embedded in the blood of a gifted few,” Lindhardt explained. His hands were trembling as he pulled them away from Caspar’s nearly-healed wound. “It is said the Goddess herself bestowed Crests upon the heroes of ole many, many years ago. Their descendents harbor the power today.”

“But most Crest-bearers are of noble status,” Edelgard added, perplexed. The Crest that flashed before her eyes when Byleth was impaled… the intricate knots and loops… were hauntingly familiar. She only got a glimpse before it vanished, so she couldn’t be sure, but… Could it be?

“Though they  _ have _ been known to appear spontaneously in those of common birth as well. Usually in descendents of forgotten bloodlines or bastards,” Lindhardt continued methodically. 

“Not to say you’re a bastard, Professor!” Edelgard piped up, flashing a glare at Lindhardt. “He was only giving you a broad explanation.” 

Byleth shrugged. “I’m not offended. I understand what he meant.” 

“Perhaps your mother was of noble birth?” Lindhardt asked.

“I do not know much about my mother,” Byleth confessed. “She died giving birth to me.” 

“Curious,” Lindhardt whispered under his breath.

Edelgard frowned at him before offering Byleth a sympathetic gaze. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Byleth shrugged again, staring down at Caspar. She raised her brows. “He sleeps.”

Sure enough, soft snores escaped Caspar. His face finally smoothed from the twists of pain, and he was a boy again, not an ailing soldier. Lindhardt rubbed an aromatic salve against his inflamed skin before pressing on a fresh bandage. Softly, he draped another pelt across Caspar. 

“I will keep watch over him tonight,” Lindhardt decided. His gray eyes sagged with the need for sleep, and he yawned loudly. 

“Are you sure?” Byleth pressed. “Dorothea and I know some rudimentary healing spells. We can assist you, if need be.”

Lindhardt shook his head. “No, no, I can handle him. I can afford at least one sleepless night.” 

“If you insist,” Byleth relented. She left her students and stood before Edelgard, arms still crossed. “Would you accompany me back to the main camp?”

Being close to Byleth never ceased to startle Edelgard. She hesitated before responding. “Yes.”

They walked through the woods in silence. Edelgard kept Byleth at arm’s length, staring at the ground. The woods glowed with the blue light of the full moon. Frost already hugged the leaves and branches around them, glittering silver. In the distance, laughter echoed from the mercenaries, followed by the animated twang of Sir Catherine’s drunken voice. Edelgard still could not bring herself to let her eyes linger on Byleth for too long; the sight of her butchering Lord Lonato’s face with a broken sword played on repeat in her head. A woman, no, a human, could never do what she did without dying. 

“What disturbs you?” Byleth asked. 

“Nothing,” Edelgard lied, staring ahead. “I’m just tired.”

“I see.” Byleth did not sound convinced. 

Edelgard kept Byleth at a distance, feeling a ravine open between them. She welcomed the fissure. The more fractured their relationship became, the easier it would be to let her go when the time came. And the time was coming no matter what. It marched toward her with the grim certitude of an army approaching an inevitable battle. There would be blood.

“That letter,” Byleth murmured, making Edelgard’s pulse quicken. “What do you think of it?”

Edelgard anticipated this question. Byleth was too perceptive to accept the letter at face-value. “It’s a precarious notion, assassinating Lady Rhea. Though Lord Lonato obviously harbored a grudge against the Central Church, I cannot comprehend the idea of him plotting her murder.”

“So, you think more parties are involved?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. Edelgard maintained an air of practiced studiousness as she danced around the whole truth. “A plot of that magnitude could never be carried out alone.” 

“It’s probably a distraction,” Byleth said. 

Edelgard hid her smile. Byleth impressed her, as always. “I agree. We must wait and see what Lady Rhea wishes for us to do, however.” 

The warm light of the campfire glowed against Byleth’s face as she walked with Edelgard. She stood at the edge of camp, hesitating, before she turned to Edelgard. The dark of night made the blue in her eyes bluer. Edelgard drowned in the depths of them. Byleth whispered, “Thank you.” 

“For what?” Edelgard asked. 

“You came to me when I needed you,” Byleth said. “For that, I am grateful.” 

“You needed me… I see.” Edelgard was unsure of what to do with her words. Though they warmed her heart, her mind wandered to the potential advantage of her confession. Now more than ever, she needed to find holes in Byleth’s armor. “I…”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Byleth stepped closer, wishing to close the distance between them. 

Edelgard stepped back. “It’s okay. We were all shaken up by the ambush today. It was a hard fight for us all.” 

Byleth broke her gaze, staring down at her clenched fists. “That is the reality of battle,” she murmured, joyless. 

Her frigid words caused Edelgard to shiver. “Unfortunately, not all the students share your unshakeable willpower, my teacher.” She treaded carefully onto thin ice, testing its limits. “Those civilians fought for what they believed in. They were willing to lay down their lives for Lord Lonato, just as your mercenaries and students would lay down their lives for you--”

“I don’t want anyone to die for me,” Byleth interrupted. 

“Regardless, you have people that would follow you to the end.” Edelgard wanted to be one of those people, she realized, but reality was cruel. They could never have that bond. Her tone grew fiercer as frustration rose within her. “I too will have followers and people that support me. I, like Lord Lonato, may call upon them to fight and die for a higher cause, and I would do so unflinchingly. As leaders, we cannot allow our personal feelings to get in the way of righteousness.” 

Byleth considered her words in silence. Her glare tore through Edelgard, but she refused to flinch. “I wish I shared your conviction.” 

Her words struck Edelgard like an arrow, piercing her. Maybe they were not so similar after all? It only made Edelgard angrier. Passion bled into her voice as she said, “I intend to fight for what I believe in until the day I die. I will fight, even if I must face the gods themselves, because I know I will be fighting for the greater good.”

“I support you,” Byleth murmured. 

She froze. “I’m… I wasn’t expecting you to say that.” 

Byleth looked away, staring into the blazing fire waiting for them at camp. The flames kindled the glow of her glare. “All my life, I’ve been employed to fight for other’s beliefs. It didn’t matter if I believed in them too or not. I like to think that there will come a day when I get to make the choice to fight for what  _ I _ believe in. When that day comes, I know I will choose the path I believe in with all my heart.”

Edelgard’s heart skipped at the sound of her voice. For once, it seemed like passion slipped into Byleth’s words; it was like the flicker of an ember rising from a pyre. Just as it was when they first met, Edelgard longed for Byleth to join her side, when the time came. Yet, she knew, deep down, that would never happen. Sadness crept onto her features.

“Edelgard? Professor?” Bernadetta’s voice carried from the campsite. “Is that you? Dinner is ready!” 

Byleth left the shadows of the forest, stepping into the light. “Thank you, Bernadetta,” she said. “It smells great.” 

The campsite was almost empty. Dorothea and Petra retired to a collection of pelts and woolen blankets, sleeping together beneath the stars. Ferdinand was among them, snoring occasionally. They were unequipped with tents, so a menagerie of blankets had to suffice. No one expected to be caught in the heat of battle and forced to camp near the bloody grounds. 

Smiling, Bernadetta handed her a leg of the roasted hare. “Here.” 

Byleth took it, sitting down beside Bernadetta quietly. 

Edelgard came next, still feeling sadness swarm her heart. When she looked up, Bernadetta was standing before her with another leg to offer. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking the food. 

She sat beside Hubert as he ate his rabbit, suddenly not hungry. 

“What’s cookin’ over here?” Sir Catherine staggered up to their fire, sniffing the air indulgently. “Smells great.” 

“There’s a-a little bit left, if you’d like some, Sir Catherine,” Bernadetta offered shyly. 

Sir Catherine heartily obliged, swiping what was left on the skewer. “Don’t mind if I do!” she sang. She squeezed onto the log beside Byleth, tearing into the meat, unaware of the cool glare Byleth gave her. “You know,” she said between bites. “I really don’t know what Lady Rhea sees in you, Professor.” 

Edelgard glared at Sir Catherine. The drink seemed to loosen Sir Catherine’s tongue more than usual; though it’s not like it was necessary. Sir Catherine wagged her tongue at just about anyone. The only exception was Lady Rhea.

“You’re not particularly good-looking,” Sir Catherine prattled on, eyeing Byleth as critically as she could with her drooping gaze. “You can swing a sword, sure, but so can I.” She patted Thunderbrand’s sheath with a smirk. A light touched her expression. “Perhaps it is the legacy you descend from? Daughter of the Blade Breaker—ha! You really paid homage to your father’s name today, I’ll give you that!”

Byleth stopped eating, rising to her feet suddenly. “Enough. I’m just me, that’s all there is to it,” she said, succinct. 

Sir Catherine gave a throaty chuckle, tossing the bones of her meal behind her. “Yeah, ‘just me,’ that’s the problem. We don’t know what you are.” She stood as well, rocking back onto her heels as she put her hand on her hips, surveying Byleth like a rancher would a mustang. Weary of her wildness, yet longing to tame it. “You never told us you had a Crest.”

“I didn’t know either,” Byleth said. 

“It’s a mighty powerful one to boot, your Crest.” Sir Catherine circled Byleth. Her icy blue eyes flickered like the flames of the campfire. “Yet, you haven’t fully Awakened it.”

“I’ve not?”

She chuckled again. “No. You’ve not.” The curl in her lips grew more mocking. “Once it’s Awakened, I will be able to see you for what you are; you won’t be able to hide from me or Lady Rhea anymore. The Crest in me will unveil the Crest in you.”

It sounded more like a threat than a promise. Edelgard knew it was the liquor that emboldened her words just like Thunderbrand emboldened her in battle. It disgusted her. Beneath all the trappings of power, Sir Catherine was just another person. Yet, she walked among them like a god, like she was thunder incarnate. “It’s been a long day for us all,” Edelgard said levelly. “Let’s not test one another.” 

“Agreed. I’ll be retiring for the night.” Byleth tossed the scraps and skewer left of her meal into the fire. “Thank you for the dinner, Bernadetta. I’ll see all of you at dawn.”

Sir Catherine watched as Byleth left for the camp of mercenaries. The echo of their greeting to their leader rattled the leaves on their branches. She sniffed, turning her smile on the remaining students. “Didn’t mean to ruffle any feathers. I’m merely being cautious, is all.” It was meant to be an apology, but Edelgard interpreted it as an excuse. “I should hit the hay as well. We got an early morning, kids. So don’t stay up too late telling ghost stories or whatever.” 

Edelgard was relieved to see Sir Catherine lumber away into the woods. Her knights already slept in their tents, she could hear their snoring in the distance. Her tent, the largest of all, remained unoccupied until she practically fell into it, grunting. 

Bernadetta exhaled loudly, as if she was holding her breath. “I think I’m going to sleep too. Should I put out the fire?”

“We can handle it, Bernadetta,” Edelgard said, smiling. “Go ahead to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Bernadetta returned her smile. “Good night!” She left to curl up in the collection of pelts and woolen blankets near Ferdinand.

The sound of wood splintering in the heat of the fire filled the air. The mercenaries quieted as the night went on until their laughs were replaced by the sounds of their snores. The night grew colder as sleep claimed them all one by one. Edelgard and Hubert were not among them. They sat, side by side, staring into the flames, watching as they licked the sky, burning the stars. Silence fell upon them, for they both knew what was coming, and they waited with bated breath. It came in a rustle in the trees. It came in a whistle in the wind. It came in the bone-chilling screech of an owl. 

“He’s here,” Hubert muttered, face twisting. 

“I know.” Edelgard stood. “Stay here. If anyone comes for me, do your best to keep them away.”

Edelgard left for the woods once more. This time, however, her footsteps felt heavy. The crunch of frosted leaves beneath her boots kept her sane, for the night was too quiet. Shadows seemed to follow her, eyeless, yet she could feel them watching her. The sound of slithering hissed in the forest, as if a hundred snakes came to visit her. Somewhere in the treetops, an owl hooted, hopping from branch to branch, sending leaves to fall into Edelgard’s snow white hair. It was not until the owl took the low-hanging branch before her as its perch that she stopped. The owl’s feathers were as pale as her hair; they shined with a silvery sheen in the night. Black freckles twinkled against the plumes like obsidian. It did not face her, but hooted at something ahead. 

_ “Ducunt volentem fata,” _ she whispered.

The owl’s head turned around, so that its back and its eyes faced her. Its unblinking eyes were black as pitch, no pupil or iris existed. The owl clicked its beak, replying,  _ “Nolentem trahunt.” _

Edelgard waited, staring into the black eyes of the owl before she said, “Why have you come?”

The owl rotated its body, its head unmoving, so that it faced her properly. Its voice echoed from somewhere far away into her head. “To ensure what needs to be done is done.”

“It’s done. Now you can leave.”

It tilted its head, beak clicking. “The letter?”

“Yes. It’s in the hands of Thunder Catherine.”

“Our saviour, our salvation,” the owl whispered. The words of gratitude slipped from its beak like a curse. 

Edelgard regarded the creature with a mistrustful stare. “I said you can leave.” 

“There is more to discuss.”

Bracing herself, Edelgard allowed the owl to continue. Her hand hovered at the pommel of her dagger. 

“We know the false goddess will take the bait, preposterous as it is.” The owl’s head tilted from side to side, rolling its thoughts around in its head. “She is a predictable beast. She will draw up guards and patrols from her ranks; her new pet will be among them.”

“Yes.” 

“Which means you and the rest of the students will be on duty as well. Do you know what you must do?”

“I wager you will tell me regardless of my answer,” Edelgard said. 

A ghostly cackle left the owl, and it flapped its wings with humor. “Cunning as ever.” The owl bobbed its head in a nod. Its black eyes pierced her soul. “You will do whatever it takes to convince that professor of yours to protect the Holy Mausoleum.”

“But it’s closed to the public? Why protect something that cannot be reached?”

“It can be reached. The next moon harbors a wonderful holiday for the Church. The Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth, does that sound familiar?”

Edelgard almost forgot about the upcoming holiday. “It rings a bell.”

“As it should. It is one of the few days of the year that the doors of the Holy Mausoleum are open to all. When the time comes, you will be the one to ‘protect’ that precious site. By any means necessary, you will ensure the Death Knight and his men procure the bones of Seiros.”

“You know as well as I do the professor will never allow that coffin to be defiled,” Edelgard said, brows furrowed. “We are risking a lot on this single maneuver. How can you be so sure it will succeed?”

“Because  _ you _ will be there to make it so. Kill the false goddess’s new pet if you must. You will do anything! Whatever it takes! Without the bones of Seiros, we have no hope of forging a Hero’s Relic; without a Relic to entrust to you, we will be unable to dismantle the Church. Do you understand, child?  _ Do you understand?” _

“Enough of your squawking,” Edelgard hissed, eyes narrowed. “I know the weight of what must be done. But this attempt is colored foolhardy.” 

“Then color it with the blood of those Church dogs and repaint it as success. You bear the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, it must be  _ you _ that ushers in a new era, and you cannot do it without a Relic!” 

“I will do what I must,” Edelgard vowed. 

“If the professor is that much of an obstacle, kill her while she sleeps.” A cruel chuckle clicked from its beak. “She would not be opposed to you visiting her in bed, I’m sure of it.”

“We must learn more of her purpose before I dispose of her,” Edelgard argued. “Her purpose in the monastery is more than just to teach, I know it. Lady Rhea has plans for her; once we find out what, we can use them to our advantage.” 

“If you don’t have the nerve to do it, perhaps I should visit her myself?” The owl twisted its head around, as if searching for Byleth. “It would be easy. Just a slit to the throat and--”

Snapping, Edelgard flung her dagger at the owl. It screeched, falling off its branch in a whirl of feathers to plop against the frosty ground. It twitched as blood seeped from its breast. Its eyes were no longer black, but faded gold that soon grew milky with death. The chuckle still lingered in the air, slithering around Edelgard’s ears, making her shiver. 

“Temper, Edelgard,” the fading voice said. “I was only musing… You know I don’t waste my time on dogs.” The chuckle echoed still. “Now look at what you’ve done. You killed the poor creature I was peeping.” 

Edelgard stared at the dead owl, her face as cold as the night. His scrying is what cost the bird its life, not her anger. “Maybe you should see me in person instead of using defenseless animals as a shield?”

“You know as well as I do that we need each other,” the disembodied voice whispered. “Stop resisting your fate. Our savior. Our salvation.” As it spoke, the voice faded into the shadows. Slithering noises hissed around her, growing higher in pitch until they began to whistle. Edelgard squeezed her eyes shut as the noise took form and buried into her skin. 

Then, it stopped. 

Opening her eyes again, she stood alone in the company of a dead owl. Her brow was slick with sweat, and she was panting. Retrieving her dagger from the owl’s bloody breast, she whispered, “Damn you, Thales.”


	10. Yield to the Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes resume for the Black Eagles after the Battle at Magdred Way while Garreg Mach prepares for the upcoming holiday, though danger looms on the horizon. Edelgard is forced to come to terms with a shocking discovery.

“This will be our last real visitation of the Trilemma of Weapons before we move onto more advanced subjects. So, let’s see what you know.”

Byleth stood at the forefront of the Black Eagles classroom, giving each of her students a meaningful glance. In her hand, she held a massive book that had no title. On its leather face there was a sword, an axe, and a lance organized to form a triangle. Her other hand pinched a worn stick of chalk that powdered her callused fingers white as she rolled it between them. She paced before the first row of desks, glancing ever so often at what rested on the pages with a furrowed brow.

Edelgard sat at her usual desk in the front row, resting her chin on her gloved hand, watching Byleth as she began the daily lecture. She wished she was as acquainted with sleep as she was the Trilemma of Weapons. A good night’s rest evaded her since they returned to Garreg Mach two days prior. The noises in the night all started to sound like the whispering beat of an owl’s flapping wing, or the tap of its beak against her window. The shadows in her room held the face of the Dark Mage, hooked nose and all. When she tried to shut her eyes, Lord Lonato’s butchered face waited behind her eyelids. 

“Edelgard.”

It was not until Byleth stood before her desk that Edelgard realized she took a chance to shut her eyes. She stared up at her professor, frowning, offended to be caught in a blink that lasted a smidgen too long. Byleth met her stare evenly, looking more concerned than anything else, which only wounded Edelgard more. She kept her voice cordial as guilt gnawed at her temples. “Professor?” 

“If you’re too tired to stay awake during my lecture, perhaps you should leave and get the notes from someone after class,” Byleth said.

“I’m fine,” Edelgard insisted. “My apologies.”

Byleth lingered in front of her before resuming, taking her place in the aisle between the rows of desks. She shut the book with a smack, keeping it tucked beneath her arm. “Let’s begin with axes,” she said. “We know the axe yields to the sword. Can anyone tell me why?”

“The axe is the weapon of baseborn men,” Ferdinand said dismissively. Edelgard didn’t need to be facing him to know he didn’t bother to raise his hand. He went on, “It could never hold a candle to a weapon crafted for the hands of noble men.”

His every word pricked at Edelgard’s thin veil of patience. She could feel his amber eyes burn into her back and see his boastful smile without looking at his face. It took everything in her not to turn on him with a retort. Glancing across the class, she could see Ferdinand’s answer didn’t just rub her the wrong way. Dorothea made a face like she smelled something rotten. Hubert rubbed at his temples, as if the very sound of Ferdinand’s voice dispensed him with a migraine. 

If Ferdinand’s answer annoyed Byleth, she never showed it. “Yet, the lance yields to the axe. The lance is similar to the sword in that it was made for knights and officers of higher class. So, I’ll ask again, why does the axe yield to the sword?” 

The class went quiet, strangled to silence by the repeated question. No one dared to risk being wrong. If Caspar were here, Edelgard knew he would belch out an answer for the sake of answering; it mattered not to him if he was right or wrong. Edelgard stared at his empty desk, surprised that she missed her rowdy classmate, but missing him all the same. He and Lindhardt both remained absent since classes resumed; Caspar stayed in the infirmary, recovering, while Lindhardt kept to his side, hoping to mend his egregious wound. Perhaps if Hubert or Bernadetta moved up from the back row to fill the empty desk, she would feel their absence less, but asking either of them to do so would be in vain.

“Perhaps we should spend more than just one day on the Trilemma of Weapons,” Byleth murmured. She was back by her desk at the front of the class, where she slammed the heavy titleless book onto her desk. “If none of you can answer the most basic of questions.”

“I have the answer,” Edelgard said, raising her hand. The last thing she wanted was to dwell on the tired subject, which had been hammered into her head since she first held an axe in her hand.

“Pray tell.” Byleth nodded, granting her the floor.

Edelgard stood to address the class. “To understand why the axe yields to the sword, one must consider its origins. The axe is the oldest of all weapons because it was first used as a tool to split the wood needed to build a fire. Many soon came to realize that the axe could be used to split heads just as easily.”

“Show off...” Edelgard heard Ferdinand grumble under his breath and smiled. Yes, she did intend to show off. And why not? She knew the answer. 

“The axe is easy to craft and maintain, making it accessible to all with the means to build one. Before long, the axe was transformed into the weapon we know today; it had a heavier head and a broader, sharper bend meant to cleave with lethality. To have such a deadly, useful weapon in the hands of ‘baseborn men’ was cause for great concern for the Lords of the past, thus giving birth to the sword.

The sword was created to trump the axe in every way. It’s a lightweight weapon meant to deal several blows in the time it takes to bring down an axe. A good sword, whether it be a cutlass or rapier, is expensive to make because of the finer metals used. Therefore, it used to be that only highborn men could afford the sword, and they used it to curb the crude axe and maintain order.” Once Edelgard finished her answer, she sighed, smiling down at Ferdiand as he glared at her. 

While the rest of the students gaped at Edelgard like fish, Byleth said, “Perfect answer. Thank you, Edelgard.”

“Yes, Edie!” Dorothea chirped.  _ “Brava!”  _

“Who is this Brava?” Petra asked. 

Giggling, Dorothea said, “It’s how you congratulate a woman’s fantastic performance, Petra.” 

Petra’s eyes glowed as she understood, and she cheered, “Brava, Lady Edelgard!”

“Had I been able to finish my answer properly, I would’ve said the same,” Ferdinand said grudgingly. A dark chuckle floated from the back of the classroom at his response, and Ferdinand turned on Hubert, insisting, “It’s true!”

“Now that we’ve covered why the axe yields to the sword, can anyone tell me why the sword yields to the lance?” 

Again, Ferdinand piped up first. “The lance was crafted to beat the sword just as the sword was crafted to beat the axe. Once Lords had the perfect weapon to keep the commoners in line, their lands flourished and economies prospered, but as populations grew, the need for more resources grew as well. So, wars between nations began. Sword against sword bred tireless battles; some lasted for days. The lance was born out of necessity to parry the sword. Lances have greater reach, so they may stab the swordsman before they get too close to flay with their blade.”

“Very good, Ferdinand,” Byleth said. Then she asked him, “And why does the lance yield to the axe?”

For that, Ferdinand’s only answer was silence. 

Edelgard rose her hand again, and Byleth nodded to give her the go ahead. Smiling, she answered: “The lance is weak to the axe because the lance was built with the sword in mind. The shortcomings of the lance became apparent in the Sacking of the Four Cities, when a band of brigands known as the Mountainthieves laid siege to the largest baronies of the time. Each barony sent a cavalry to meet them, lances in hand, only to be quashed like insects when the poles of their lances shattered against the axe.

The Four Cities are said to have burned for a fortnight after the catastrophe. Countless people lost their homes, valuables, and ultimately their lives due to the Lords’ failure. By the time the four baronies regrouped their armies, they fought over piles of ash and bone. The value of each weapon--axe, lance, and sword--became most apparent in the final stand, where the baronies ultimately won. From that day forward, the Trilemma of Weapons was formally recognized and indoctrinated into lessons on warfare.”

Byleth was writing on the chalkboard as Edelgard spoke, listing names like “Dowd the Broken,” “Imayn of the Isles,” and “The Noble’s Scourge.” Once Edelgard finished, she stopped writing names and turned to face the class. “Very well spoken, Edelgard, thank you.” Gesturing to the board, she asked the students, “Of what significance are these names?”

Edelgard read over the names again and again, but her brain was steeped in fog and she couldn’t find an answer. 

“I know Imayn of the Isles. We sing songs of her in Brigid,” Petra offered, squinting at the board. “The rest are strangers to me.”

“Tell me what you know,” Byleth encouraged. 

“Imayn of the Isles was thieving of seas for many moons,” Petra began, slowly, as she mulled over every word. “When men saw her sails, they ran. She never knew defeat. Lord Petros knew this and had troubles, so he gave an offer: join his army and have an excuse for crimes--be excused for crimes, or he promised to give chase to the ends of the seas.” Petra smiled. “Imayn of the Isles had smartness. She knew she could not thieve forever. She accepted. Greatness became her, and it is known that she was one of the best soldiers and thieves of her time.”

“What does that have to do with the Trilemma of Weapons?” Ferdiand said, growing impatient. 

“Well said, Petra,” Byleth praised. Then she fixed her glare on Ferdinand. “The names I’ve listed all belong to thieves like Imayn of the Isles once was. However, all of them eventually earned a commission in a formal army, serving a Lord, and became known not for their crimes, but their triumphs in battle.”

“Apologies, Professor, but I still fail to see your point,” Ferdinand remarked, sounding bored. “These baseborn people got lucky, is all. Had that Imayn of the Isles character not accepted Lord Petros’s offer, she would’ve gone down in history as an infamous thief, but a thief nonetheless.” 

Had Edelgard been fully awake, she would have cuffed Ferdinand’s swelling head with scorn. It happened that she was too tired to waste the effort, so she only sighed irritably and focused on keeping her eyes open. 

“There is a reason the Board of Weapons Mastery has intermediate classes dubbed ‘brigand’ and ‘thief,’” Byleth said. “As wars have come and gone, those that fought in them realized that it didn’t matter where their brothers in arms came from or what they did before joining them on the field. All that mattered was their skill and will to fight. As more of what you call ‘baseborn’ men joined their nation’s armies during times of need, more of those same men won great victories and turned the tides of battle.” Byleth walked between the desks as she lectured, pacing slowly and quietly like a panther trapped in a cage. Her voice was as cold as ice as she spoke, falling from her lips to shatter the air. “When you’re at war, the classes of society bleed together into one. There is no highborn or baseborn, there is no man and there is no woman, no rich or poor. There is only one truth: we all bleed the same.”

Edelgard’s heart fluttered as Byleth continued. Watching her speak so fluently about the nature of war and of merit was like watching a ballerina dance on stage or seeing a knight joust. She was in her element. She knew how to navigate the topic of war because that was all she ever knew. It captured Edelgard. Even as fatigue sought to draw down her eyelids, she couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

“The Trilemma of Weapons seeks to define the nature of combat and devolve it into a digestible simplicity that you can read from a book,” Byleth said. “But the nature of combat can never be defined. It can never be digestible. It’s hard to swallow. There is a reason this subject is left to the beginning of your education. As you’ve already witnessed in our missions, facing someone that wields the weapon said to trump your own does not guarantee your loss. If you take anything from my teachings, take this: true strength lies not in the weapon, but the wielder.” 

The cathedral’s bells gonged from outside, calling out the midday hour in a sullen chime. Normally, the students would be dismissed for lunch, but the Blue Sea moon brought with it a small victory: class times were halved. The monastery sought to leaven the days for the Academy students in reverence of the holiday to come: the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth. It was a most merciful arrangement for Edelgard; she could not imagine what her struggle to stay awake would be like if the schedule remained the same as before. 

As the students packed their bags, Byleth said, “Tomorrow we will review the Trinity of Magic, so if you struggle with the subject, I suggest you revisit your notes.” From behind her desk, she brought out a bouquet of flowers, tucked neatly within a milk glass vase. Edelgard regarded the floral arrangement quizzically. “Additionally, I’ll be going to the infirmary to visit Caspar. Today is his birthday. If anyone would like to visit him with me, I welcome you.”

“Oh? It’s his birthday?” Dorothea clicked her tongue. “And the poor dear is spending it in the infirmary? How sad. Of course I’ll visit him.”

“I will be accompanying you, Professor,” Petra said.

“I will join you as well.” Edelgard tried to stomach the pang of disappointment she felt. So Byleth gave everyone gifts on their birthday? Why it mattered to Edelgard who Byleth got gifts for, she couldn’t explain. “As House Leader, it’d be inappropriate not to go.”

“Oh, just admit that you miss him, Edie,” Dorothea teased, coming to stand beside her. “I know I do. That big lug always knows how to make me laugh.”

Edelgard grinned at Dorothea. “Perhaps I do,” she confessed.

“It’d be a great disappointment not to have I, Ferdinand von Aegir, attend as well.” Ferdinand was already waiting at the door, smiling as Byleth joined him. Edelgard considered not going when she saw him, but only for a moment.

Hubert and, to Edelgard’s surprise, Bernadetta joined as well. She thought Bernadetta would have fled to her room at the first gong of the bell, but instead she remained in Byleth’s shadow. Edelgard came to her side, smiling. “It’s good of you to come, Bernadetta.”

“I… I couldn’t not come. It’s my fault he’s there in the first place.”

Edelgard gaped at her, confused. “That’s not true. You weren’t there when it happened.”

Bernadetta flinched as if Edelgard’s words slapped her. “I know,” she mumbled miserably. “Maybe if I fought the whole time like everyone else, I could’ve… I could’ve done something to stop him, or hit Lord Lonato with one of my arrows before he got to him.”

“You can’t allow yourself to think about what could’ve been, Bernadetta,” Edelgard murmured. “It was out of our control.”

Guilt swarmed on Bernadetta’s face, and she hid it behind her mop of purple hair as they left the classroom. “Okay.”

Out of the cool of the building, the balmy air of the Blue Sea moon greeted them. The sun beat down on the monastery without mercy, trying its best to melt down the masonry. Students kept to the shade, but sweat still slickened their brow, faces mantled by the warmth. After only a few steps, Edelgard felt her uniform cling to her skin. A warm breeze carried through the pillars that lined the stone walkways, it felt akin to a great beast sighing its hot breath onto her face. In it, she tasted the sweetness of pollen from the blossoms that burst in celebration of the warm moons to come. Among the voices of passing students, she heard the incessant trill of locusts tempered only by the twitter of birdsong. 

Byleth led them down the snaking walkways that narrowed and broadened in flux. It was a strange sight to see her with a bouquet of flowers in tow. It was like watching a barbarian play with a kitten or a priest get drunk in the temple. Edelgard was not sure if it was humorous or off-putting, but it was, in fact, entertaining. She kept a secret smile on her face as she followed her professor into the Reception Hall and up the stairs. The corridor leading to the infirmary was cool and quiet, a welcome change from the miserable outdoors. It smelled of burnt sage and rosemary, and Edelgard knew where it came from. As Byleth pushed open the door, the aroma became stronger, choking the air with a fine white smoke.

Bedridden Caspar looked glum as ever while Lindhardt sat by his side. He was bare-chested, and his abdomen was wrapped with bandages. Smoke wafted before his blue eyes from the golden bowl that rested on the nightstand; orange flames licked at the air, belching more smoke as it ate his old wrappings. Professor Manuela fanned herself, sitting at a table that occupied the center of the room, cheeks flushed. Her fan was a pretty jade green rippled with gold and orange swirls, and it batted at the white haze that slithered around her face with soft gasps. 

When she noticed the entrance of the Black Eagles, she beamed. “My darlings! It’s been far too long.” She stood, eagerly crossing the smoky threshold to greet them. “Oh, and my dear Professor brought me flowers? You’re so cute. I can’t imagine why you’re still single.” The leer in her brown eyes was apparent even through the smoke. “Maybe I can change that?” 

“These are for Caspar,” Byleth said, passing Professor Manuela without so much as a handshake. 

“So cold,” Professor Manuela mumbled. Her bottom lip drooped in a pout. “Now I  _ can  _ imagine why you’re still single.”

Edelgard laughed softly. “Hello, Professor Manuela. Thank you for taking such good care of Caspar.” 

“Oh, sweet pea, I wish I could take all the credit, but… Your Lindhardt is doing a bang up job.” She giggled. “With him doting on Caspar around the clock, I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands. I must say, he’s spoiling me.” 

The more she spoke, the more she could smell liquor rolling off her lips. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the faintest smudge in her copper-colored eyeshadow and how her lashes seemed to clump together in some places. Last night’s makeup, perhaps? Edelgard quirked a brow, having more than a guess at what Professor Manuela spent her free time doing. “Regardless, you have my thanks.” 

“My dear, if men were half as gracious as you, there’d be no broken hearts,” Professor Manuela gushed. 

“Hi, Manuela!” Dorothea greeted from behind. She hopped over to the professor, only to be scooped up into her arms. 

“My beautiful songbird! Ugh!” She twirled Dorothea around in her arms, causing the smoke break and spiral into motes. She squeezed her, petting her head dotingly. “You need to visit me more. I thought I would forget the sound of your lovely voice before long.”

Dorothea’s laugh was strained by her mentor’s vice grip. “As if you could forget a voice like mine.” 

Professor Manuela released her, tapping Dorothea’s nose with her fingertip. “That’s my girl. Have you been practicing that ode I lent you?”

“Of course. It truly is sweet music.”

“Oh!” Professor Manuela grabbed either side of Dororthea’s face, eyes widening. “And you’ve used the foundation I gave you! I knew it was your shade. You’ll be breaking hearts in no time.”

Leaving Dorothea to visit with her mentor, Edelgard and the rest of the students approached Caspar. He was sitting upright in his cot, staring down at the bouquet with an unmistakable blush. Byleth stood beside Lindhardt, staring at Caspar with her arms crossed as if he was a battle map and she the tactician. When Caspar noticed the rest of the students, he loosened his grip as shock overcame him, only to hastily squeeze it once more. 

“What are you all doing here?” he asked, eyes wide.

“It’s your birthday,” Byleth said matter-of-factly. 

“We give you celebration!” Petra added, smiling. 

“Happy birthday, Caspar!” Bernadetta squeaked.

“Yes, happy birthday,” Ferdinand said. 

Caspar rubbed the back of his head, smiling bashfully. “Aw, you guys… Thanks.” 

Edelgard stood on the side of the bed opposite from Byleth and Lindhardt. “We’ve all missed you, and we didn’t want you to spend this day without us,” she said. 

“Jeez, I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal to everyone.” Caspar’s blush remained, darkening. “I’m glad you guys came, though.”

“How’s your recovery going?” Byleth asked. 

It was Lindhardt that answered. “The wound is almost closed up. He’s really only remaining here because Professor Manuela fears infection if it's not tended to consistently.”

“I should be back to class by the end of the week.” Caspar said, giving Byleth a thumbs-up. 

“Very good,” Byleth said, nodding. 

Hubert coughed, waving his hand around. “Must she fill this room with such noxious fog?” 

Professor Manuela walked over, smiling sweetly. “It’s meant to cleanse the room of bad energy.” She waved her hand before her nose, inhaling with vigor. “When Caspar came to me, he had the scent of Demon’s Breath on his clothes. I don’t want that kind of magic in my workspace, no sir.” 

Dorothea came to Professor Manuela’s side, smiling at Caspar. “Happy birthday, little bro! Sorry you got to spend it in this dusty place.”

“Dusty?” Professor Manuela scoffed. 

Caspar hid his face behind the flowers. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“Just once more.” Dorothea laughed. 

The door to the infirmary banged open suddenly. This time, hovering in the doorway, was a woman in white. Her green eyes cut through the fog, finding the Black Eagles. Edelgard felt her blood run cold. As she entered, her satin dress drug across the floor, spilling behind her heels like rich milk. Her hands remained folded before her. On her face was a smile that did not meet her eyes. 

“Lady Rhea!” Professor Manuela exclaimed. She tucked her brunette hair behind her ear, sobering. “What a pleasant surprise. Does something ail you?”

“Nothing that can be healed by medicine, unfortunately.” Lady Rhea’s voice was as smooth and sultry as the smoke that surrounded her. “I’m sure you’ve heard of that disheartening letter found on Lord Lonato?”

Professor Manuela pondered before a light of realization shone on her face. “Yes, indeed. Such a troublesome plot.”

Edelgard fought the instinct within her to flee as they discussed the assassination plan. Considering she was the very person that wrote it and planted it, being in the company of the woman it named for death conjured a feeling inside her that was beyond description. She could feel Hubert press up behind her, tense, silently encouraging her to leave. She remained, however; and the longer she ignored the desire to flee, the greater her will to fight grew.

“What brings you here, then?” Professor Manuela asked.

Lady Rhea smiled at Byleth, and for once there was warmth in her green eyes. “I’ve come to check on my dear Professor’s student.”

Caspar blushed furiously. “I’m doing okay, My Lady.”

“That is so good to hear. I was quite disturbed when Sir Catherine told me of your injury. Thankfully, your professor was there to save you.” 

“Y-yeah.” Caspar avoided her stare. 

“And Professor, the halls of Garreg Mach are full of tales of your valiance in the battle against Lord Lonato. The Church of Seiros is forever grateful to have someone of your echelon.” Her meaningful gaze appreciated Byleth, every inch of her, and Edelgard was reminded of a painter admiring their magnum opus. 

“It is thanks to the students we had victory,” Byleth insisted brusquely. “Not me.”

“I’m not so sure.” Lady Rhea spoke as if there were no students to speak of, as if they weren’t standing in her presence. “You are more than you could ever know.”

“I’m just one person without my students,” Byleth insisted once more. Her brows knitted together. “What they’re calling the Battle of Magdred Way should never have happened, and it wouldn’t have been won without their help. That fight should have belonged to the Knights of Seiros.”

Once more, Byleth made Edelgard’s heart flutter. The unflinching coldness in Byleth’s voice was matched by Lady Rhea’s level stare. Professor Manuela cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable, but Edelgard was enraptured. Byleth spoke nothing but the truth. They won a battle meant for fully trained knights, and it almost cost Caspar and Byleth their lives.

“I’m certain you are aware of the fickle tides of war,” Lady Rhea reasoned calmly. “Unfortunately, the forefront meant for Lord Lonato was ambushed as you were; it just so happened their attackers weren’t led by Lord Lonato like yours was. I cannot apologize for the misfortune that befell you, Professor, for I know it won’t mend the damage that’s been done. However, I do humbly ask that you continue to serve the Church and the Academy with valor.”

Silence stretched between them. Professor Manuela was fanning herself fervently although the fire in the golden bowl had long petered out. The white smoke remained. It continued to cloud around the students’ faces, barely disguising their growing unease. 

“I’ll continue to work for you,” Byleth said finally. “It was never my wish to leave.”

The room seemed to release a breath. Lady Rhea’s smile grew more pleasant. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that, dear Professor.”

Edelgard’s heart sank at her answer. Would Byleth’s answer carry to their final days, she wondered. She failed to understand Byleth’s loyalty. It could belong to anyone at this point, but Edelgard knew for certain it did not belong to her, and it made her heart feel like it was drowning. To think, she once believed merely inviting Byleth to work for the Empire would be enough to earn her as an ally. Whatever motivated Byleth was enshrouded in a haze far thicker than the one that occupied the infirmary. 

“With the uncertainty of what is to come, I need you now more than ever,” Lady Rhea continued. The desperation in her voice was slight but genuine. “Your mission for this moon is to protect the monastery come the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth.”

“Who’ll protect you?” Byleth asked.

Lady Rhea laughed softly. “Oh, my dear Professor. Your concern is touching.” 

Edelgard didn’t think Byleth sounded concerned at all, but Lady Rhea interpreted it as such. It made her skin crawl. 

“I fear, as you said when you and your House Leader came to me for the mission’s debrief, that the letter is merely a ruse for something else.” She sighed sadly. “We must ensure that Garreg Mach remains safe when the doors open to the whole of the continent’s believers. And I trust you will help me in that.” 

Edelgard hid her smile. So, she took the bait. It was to be expected. Lady Rhea seemed to take anything Byleth said as gospel. It would be a moon of small victories, and they would come to a head at the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth. Once she had the bones of Saint Seiros, she would be able to sleep soundly for moons. 

“I will not betray your trust,” Byleth said. It was a solemn vow.

“I know.” Lady Rhea spoke her words with such certainty it made Edelgard feel sick. She really never had a chance. She stole a glance at Byleth, wishing now more than ever she could read her expression. “Professor Hanneman also wished to speak with you, dear Professor. Shall you accompany me to his office?” Though it was worded as a question, it sounded more like an order, and Byleth obeyed with a single nod. 

Together, they left the infirmary, shutting the door quietly behind them. No doubt they were going to Professor Hanneman to discuss Byleth’s mystery Crest. Edelgard was left feeling emptier than usual. She did not rejoin her classmates in visiting with Caspar. Instead, she stood with her hands clenched into fists and her jaw set, while her eyes and heart felt heavy. 

“Sweet pea,” Professor Manuela murmured, bringing a hand to her face. “You look green. Is something wrong?” 

Edelgard smiled pleasantly, shaking her head. “It’s nothing. Probably just something in the air. I should leave.” She glanced at Caspar. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Edelgard.” He smiled at her as she left. 

Edelgard couldn’t escape the smoky room fast enough. Once she was free in the hall, she inhaled deeply; the air still tasted of sage, but it did nothing to dissolve the bad energy looming inside of her. When the door behind her clicked shut, she knew Hubert joined her. She could feel him lingering behind her wordlessly. Together, they walked down the corridor in silence; their footsteps echoed after them. It was eerily empty on the second floor. Most of the priests and knights took to the grounds to prepare for the upcoming ceremonies. Yet, she always felt like she heard whispers within the walls. As they passed a bulletin board listing the plans of the week, she felt her stomach churn at the sight of an owl, preening its white plumes while it sat on its perch. Thankfully, its eyes were bright gold. 

After a couple of turns through the narrow halls, Edelgard and Hubert arrived at the library. To her relief, it was vacant save for hundreds of shelves of books. Each table harbored two candles. The flames shivered together as they lit the room with an orange glow. A globe carved of brass and wood served as the library’s centerpiece, frozen in time, never spinning. Edelgard approached it, bracing her hands against the base. The stained wood was smooth and cool. It calmed her. 

“I can tell you’re brooding, Hubert,” Edelgard murmured. She didn’t even need to look at him to know. Her hands squeezed the wood. “What is it?”

“Lady Edelgard, you know what must be done.” His voice was as solemn as a plague doctor’s. 

“Don’t be cryptic, Hubert, it’s unbecoming.”

“The professor is becoming more and more dangerous to us. Whatever Crest she possesses can very well lead to our undoing. She should have died in the Battle of Magdred Way.” 

Edelgard was disturbed to find herself happy that she didn’t. “We need her, Hubert. Without her, we can never get to the Holy Mausoleum. Lady Rhea trusts her unconditionally.” The words made her mouth taste like bile.

“Yes, but if she’s in the Holy Mausoleum, there’s a good chance our associates will fail. She’s a demon in battle, that much is certain.”

“And that’s why we will be there,” Edelgard reasoned. “It’s up to us to ensure they do not fail. We must do whatever it takes to prevent her from stopping them.”

Hubert chuckled darkly. “Perhaps you can order the Death Knight to slay her on that day?”

The idea struck her with more horror than anything. She imagined Byleth falling to the Death Knight as he plunged his lance into her heart. “No, we don’t know enough about her yet to kill her.”

Hubert’s expression soured. “What more do we need to know, pray tell, Lady Edelgard? How she takes her tea? Whether she prefers the sunrise or sunset? Forgive me, but I believe we know enough to be certain that our goals are more attainable without her presence.” His voice held layers of pain and anger, and they hissed through his gritted teeth. “I’ve been by your side since we were children, My Lady. I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” 

A worm of fear squirmed in Edelgard’s stomach as she realized she did want to know the answer to those questions. The worm wriggled around in her intestines until she felt nauseous. 

“Whatever your feelings are, Lady Edelgard, they are preventing you from seeing her for what she is.” 

Feelings? Edelgard glared at her vassal. “And what is that, Hubert?”

“A  _ threat _ .”

Edelgard felt her hands shake as they balled into fists once more. “I know what she is,” she argued. “Do you think I’m blind? I’ve known since the day she fought by my side she was a threat. However, there’s still a chance she--”

“She has the support of Lady Rhea and, consequently, the Knights of Seiros, she is loved by the students in all three Houses. Her Crest allowed her to cheat death and is probably capable of much more.” Hubert’s lips trembled with unbridled rage. Very rarely did she see him so angry, and never before has that anger been directed at her. “You know, deep down, that when the time comes to put our plans in motion, she won’t stay by your side.”

Hubert’s words cut deep into Edelgard. She would rather bleed than hear anymore, but he continued. 

“It is only you and I, Lady Edelgard. It always has been. You must realize these games with Professor cannot continue—think about the sacrifices you’ve made and will continue to make!”

“Enough!” Edelgard yelled. Her eyes bore into him, burning like the flames of the candles around them. “I said enough… I know the path I walk. I know what it means to continue forward, but do not stand there and tell me it is you and I. It has been, and always will be, just me.”

“Lady Edelgard.” It was her turn to cut with words. His face melted like the candle’s burning wax. Edelgard wondered if he would ever smile again. In defeat, he nodded. “Forgive me. My… passion to protect you overcame me. I forgot myself.” 

“You continue to forget.” Edelgard’s voice was cold. “I know the weight of what’s to come, I do not need you to spell it out for me. How could I forget? I shoulder it every waking minute of my life… but it will not crush me. Fodlan  _ will  _ change, I swear it. And that change will come regardless of the professor’s actions.” She gestured to the door of the library. “Do not question my intentions with Byleth again. Get out of my sight.”

Hubert bowed to her. “If it pleases you, My Lady.” 

When Hubert left her alone, Edelgard reclined against the statue. She pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. As the worm of fear continued to bury deeper inside of her, the weight of the world crushed her from the outside. She hated Hubert. She hated him because she was beginning to believe he was right. Whatever feelings she had for Byleth impeded her, but no matter how dangerous she became, she could not stop those feelings from growing.

But it did not matter. 

Edelgard could abstain from acting on her feelings like someone could abstain from sweets. She waged a silent war against Byleth. No matter what happened, she knew she could keep her at arm’s length. She would not fall victim to the sound of her voice or the way her leggings hugged her thighs. She would not bend to her encouragement or praise. She would not allow herself to drown in the depths of her impossibly blue eyes.

She would not yield to the sword. 


	11. The Flesh is Weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Edelgard endures another sleepless night, she finds Byleth in a precarious situation.

Moonlight bleached Edelgard’s room as night swallowed Garreg Mach. She sat in her quarters, unable to justify dressing down into her evening wear, for she knew that she would not be sleeping tonight. There was too much on her mind. It raced in a circuit, constantly cycling back to the same question: who was Byleth? A woman built like a god in wrath and frame with no beating heart to speak of. She possessed a Crest that saved her from death. And she won the trust of the archbishop by her mere presence. 

A fortnight had passed since the Battle at Magdred Way. Sleep had become a stranger to her. Even her studies took a backseat as she wove her web behind the scenes like a spider. Everything needed to work perfectly for the invasion of the mausoleum to be a success. She planted seeds and sewn threads, creating a garland to sow and wear as her prize. 

The only threat to her plan was Byleth. 

Her shadow sat beside her, whispering in her ear,  _ Just kill her and be done with it. She is not worth the stress. _

Edelgard shook her head. She could not justify killing Byleth, not when her only motive was fear. If she killed out of fear, she would be no better than the very institution she vowed to destroy. Besides, her fear was tamed by a stronger feeling, and it simmered just beneath the surface, encouraging her to take something far more intimate than her life. She hissed through her teeth, rubbing her temples.

_ She will ruin everything, _ the shadow murmured. 

“Stop it.” 

_ You’ll fail when she turns against you. Just kill her. Kill her! Kill her! _

“Enough!” she yelled. 

There was a loud knock at her door. Edelgard sucked in her breath. The shadow by her side was just a shadow once more, and it no longer whispered. 

“M’Lady?” a voice said from behind the door. The knocking came again, louder. 

“Just a minute!” Edelgard stood, fixing her hair and wiping away her frazzled expression. Opening the door, she was greeted by a pair of knights. Their milky white armor glowed like moonlight in the night. They looked alike in uniform, for their helms hid their faces. She could not even see the glint of their eyes.

“M’Lady, we heard a shout. Are you in distress?” The same voice from before came from one of the knights. She was not sure which one. 

“I’m fine,” she said. “I just… thought I saw a rat.”

“Very well. We are patrolling, should you require assistance. Good night, M’Lady.”

“Yes, thank you, good night.” 

Shutting the door, she didn’t release the handle until she heard their footsteps fade down the hall. She sighed loudly. Security grew more ample as the days passed. It would reach sweltering heights come the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth. But it did not matter, Lady Rhea would trust Byleth and, by extension, her students to keep the Holy Mausoleum safe. Edelgard made certain of that; it was tireless work, feeding Byleth with information concerning the mausoleum’s importance. Her efforts paid off in great dividends, however, for it was officially up to the Black Eagles to stand guard at the mausoleum. Edelgard would do everything in her power to make sure they failed.

Voices penetrated the door. She froze, straining to listen. They came closer, yet still sounded far away. Carefully, she opened her door. Peeking around either side, she crossed the threshold once she confirmed the coast was clear. Not a soul moved about the halls besides her. Laughter carried from the outside, and in it came a name: 

“Byleth!”

Edelgard hurriedly rubbed her palm against the hall’s window, dampening her glove as she smeared away the humidity that clouded her view. Sure enough, she saw her, Byleth, swaying between the last two people on the continent she would imagine her with: Sir Catherine and Sir Alois. They each had an arm around her as they staggered in unison down the cobblestone path. Something in her compelled Edelgard to rush to Byleth’s aid. And she did. 

Flitting down the corridor, she kept to the shadows, only pausing beside massive vases or behind curtains when she heard footsteps approaching. A student getting caught outside their room after hours warranted more than a slap on the wrist, and the last thing she needed was attention being drawn to her, but she couldn’t stop. She wanted to get to Byleth. Her feet carried her swiftly outside of the dorms and into the garden. 

Sir Catherine’s laughter bounced off the stone walls, assaulting her ears. Their sloppy steps and ceaseless laughs led Edelgard to them easily. She hid behind the massive hedges and birch trees that flanked the walkway, keeping pace with them. Sir Catherine’s blond hair framed her reddened face messily; her smile never left her but her eyes held a different emotion that did not match the amusement in her voice. Poor Sir Alois looked like someone replaced his head with a tomato; his eyes were nearly swollen shut, raining tears down onto his puffy cheeks each time he sputtered a laugh. 

It was Byleth that shocked her most of all, however. For the first time, Edelgard saw color in her cheeks. Her blush was rosy, accentuating her cheekbones. Her eyes were glazed over, but not swollen. She almost looked like she was in a dream. She walked like it too. Edelgard wanted it to be her she leaned on, not the dastardly knights. Anger rose up inside her as she felt her longing to possess Byleth grow stronger. Why would Byleth want to spend the night with the likes of  _ them? _

The closer Edelgard got, the more she realized that the knights weren’t escorting Byleth at all. Rather, it seemed  _ they _ were the ones leaning on  _ her _ for support, stumbling over their own feet as Byleth walked with only a slight stagger. She didn’t need saving at all.  _ I’m so foolish, _ Edelgard thought.  _ What would I have done, anyway? Volunteered to carry her back myself?  _ The idea only made her blush at the nonsense of it. Before she could make her escape, they started talking, and she was inclined to listen.

“You really are your father’s daughter!” Sir Catherine exclaimed. She pumped her fist in the air, ruthlessly punching at nothing. “First, you kill a man with a broken blade. Then, you nearly drink the tavern dry!” She howled with laughter as she belched her swollen praise for Byleth. It was almost as swollen as Sir Alois’s blistered face. He looked as if he’d smashed it against the ground once or twice, and judging by his wobbly knees, he probably did. 

“Hold fast!” Sir Alois interrupted. He twisted his whiskers between two fingers pensively. “Let me ask this before you make such a statement: did you at least pay your tab?” 

Byleth’s eyes rolled to stare at Sir Alois, expression blank. “What’s a tab?” 

Sir Catherine roared with laughter, and Sir Alois could not help but join in. “Yeah, you’re your father’s daughter, alright,” Sir Alois conceded. 

Byleth didn’t laugh with them, however. She seemed to be walking in another world. It rubbed Edelgard the wrong way. The knights were blatantly laughing at her, not with her. Yet, Byleth did not seem to notice or care. 

“I don’t know why you’re laughing, Al.” Sir Catherine snickered.  _ “You’ll _ be the one paying the tab.”

Sir Alois’s face cracked with a scowl. “Blast these Eisners!” His anger didn’t last, though, and he was chuckling again. “I suppose it's money well spent, you and your father have done a lot for the knights and the Church.”

“It’s not like we have a choice.” Byleth’s biting remark made Edelgard stiffen. Did she not realize she was smashed between two of the most prominent Knights of Seiros? Her confidence didn’t waver, and to her benefit, it seemed both Catherine and Alois were too drunk to notice her jab.

“Had your pops not sent you packing, you’d probably have outdrunk him and Manny combined!” Sir Catherine proclaimed. 

“Manny?” Byleth repeated, confused. 

“It’s my nickname for Professor Manuela. She hates it.” Sir Catherine smiled proudly at that. 

“All jokes aside, I’m glad you finally joined us at the tavern, Byleth,” Sir Alois said. His words slurred, smearing off his tongue in sudsy syllables. 

“She probably wouldn’t have if Lady Rhea didn’t impose the new curfew,” Sir Catherine said. “Those ducklings of hers would’ve waddled after her the minute she left for the tavern.”

Edelgard gritted her teeth together. She was not fond of being compared to a duckling. And she certainly was not fond of the comparison coming from someone like Thunder Catherine. 

“It’s not like the students can drink,” Sir Alois reasoned. 

“Doesn’t matter, they follow her everywhere.” Sir Catherine made a scoffing noise. “It couldn’t be your charm, so what? You give extra credit if they keep you company?” 

Byleth didn’t respond, though Edelgard wished she would; she only gave Sir Catherine more ammo. 

“Aha! I knew it. No wonder all their grades are so great,” Sir Catherine boasted at her unfounded discovery and started digging deeper. “So, which one are you sleeping with?” 

“That’s enough, Cat!” Sir Alois scorned. 

She brushed him off with a shrug. “What? I’m only joking… Unless…” Her impish gaze found Byleth again, and she leaned in. “Unless it’s true? Your silence is more revealing than you know, Professor. Let me guess… it’s the one at the top of your class, isn’t it?”

Sir Catherine grunted as Byleth shoved her off with a jab to her ribs. She recovered with a chuckle, rubbing her side. “So, I’m right, eh? You’ve got good taste, Professor.”

“I said that’s enough, Cat!” Sir Alois blustered. “It’s not funny anymore.” 

“What? It’s not like it’s forbidden,” she reasoned, smirking. “Only frowned upon. It’d really do some damage to your renown as a professor if you get caught in bed with a student, though, and a princess at that.” Sir Catherine sucked her teeth and gave a whistle. “Lady Rhea would be most unsettled to know the dirty truth of her favorite professor--”

“I grow tired of your games,” Byleth muttered. “What do you want from me?” 

Sir Catherine gaped, feigning innocence. “I’m just trying to figure out what makes you tick. You’re not giving me much to work with.”

Byleth walked away from her, glaring at the stone floor and said nothing more. Her face was colder than ever. Edelgard’s face, however, was still hot at the accusation Sir Catherine made. Edelgard assumed she must’ve drank an entire barrel to be fueled with such audacity. 

Sir Alois patted Byleth’s shoulder with the hand that braced around her. “Pay her no heed, Byleth. She’s just an imp.”

Edelgard was close enough to hear Sir Catherine whisper under her breath, “You’re not going to ignore me.” Watching Byleth and Sir Alois leave, she started laughing again, but she did not sound as amused as before. “Hey, Professor!” When she noticed the shimmer of a knife in her hand, Edelgard’s breath caught. “Think fast!” 

In a flash of silver, the knife pined for the back of Byleth’s head. Edelgard nearly burst from the bushes to yank her out of the way, but the knife already rattled on the ground, failing to hit its target. Peering through the leaves, Edelgard saw the glint of the iron armor on Byleth’s forearm hovering before her face. Her eyes blazed with rage. “You could’ve killed me,” Byleth mumbled. She sounded unsurprised by the idea, bored, even. 

“What the blazes has come over you, Cat?!” Sir Alois protested. He’d fallen backward on the ground at some point during the attempted assault, glaring up at Sir Catherine with equal parts confusion and anger. His jowls trembled as he spoke, “She’s one of us! What’s the use of playing such tricks?” 

“One of us, sure. All the more reason to have some fun.” Sir Catherine snickered. “It was just a dull kitchen knife from the tavern. Nothing to get your knickers in a twist about.”

“Rash, Cat, too rash,” Sir Alois muttered, heaving to his feet with effort.

“Your reflexes are stellar,” Sir Catherine remarked. “You really are an impressive creature.”

Byleth was not taken by her praise. Her face was as smooth and solid as stone and twice as unfeeling. 

The tension in the air grew as thick as the humidity. It nearly became tangible before Sir Alois stood between them. “How ‘bout we head back to our rooms, hm?” 

“Gladly,” Sir Catherine said. 

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Byleth murmured suddenly. 

Sir Alois regarded her with shock. “You what?!”

Sir Catherine was not convinced. She crossed her arms, saying, “You’re either a terrible liar or a terrible joker. I know a puker when I see one, and you ain’t it.”

Byleth bundled her hair up with her hand, leaving behind only a few flyaways to curl at her neck. “Will you hold my hair back?” she asked. 

Sir Catherine rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, we can take a hint. G’head on walk back on your own, then.” Scooping Sir Alois by the crook of his arm, the knights marched, or rather stumbled, into the night. As they got further away they began to sing a shanty about drinking to the foam, as if they hadn’t done it enough tonight. 

Once Byleth was alone, Edelgard moved to make her escape, only to freeze when she heard, “If you’re going to spy, perhaps abstain from wearing red?” 

“Dammit,” Edelgard whispered, standing. “I wasn’t spying.” 

Over the hedge, she saw Byleth looking directly at her. The blush on her face remained, but her expression was not warmed by it. “Then why do you hide?”

Edelgard sniffed, turning her nose up. “I merely wanted to see what racket was keeping me up. I thought it was squabbling cats, but lo and behold it was you, my teacher.”

“Sorry.” Her voice lowered, soft in its apology. “I’ll be retiring for the night. I shall disturb you no longer.”

Watching Byleth walk down the street, she felt her heart being tugged after her. With Sir Catherine keen on throwing knives tonight, sending Byleth off on her own didn’t sit right with Edelgard. Despite the risk, she stepped out into the open, pushing through the hedge. Coming up beside Byleth, she took her arm gingerly. Byleth didn’t pull away. 

“At least let me make sure you get back safely,” Edelgard said. 

“If you insist.” 

Byleth’s steps grew more severe the further they walked. Had she remained with the knights, Edelgard feared what they would have done with her. Sir Alois seemed genuine, but Sir Catherine wouldn’t let a stumbling Byleth go unpunished. Byleth leaned against her. For once, she felt warm. The alcohol seemed to stir life into her somehow; she was less of a statue and more of a woman that had one too many drinks. The last time she supported Byleth like this, she was bleeding profusely from the wound Kostas gave her while she was trying to protect Edelgard. The battle seemed so long ago now. Her arm tightened around Byleth’s waist at the memory of it. 

The clangor of steel armor caused both of them to freeze. Before Edelgard could react, Byleth yanked her so roughly she thought she fell over. Instead of crashing to the ground, however, Byleth pulled her into the shadows. They stood, wedged between two buildings, as guards approached. Byleth held Edelgard close, and she was forced to press the side of her face against her chest as her professor’s arms looped protectively around her. While Byleth glared at the walkway from the shadows, Edelgard gazed up at her. Even after a night at the bar, she seemed to remain alert. Byleth’s brow wrinkled seriously as voices became apparent. 

“Damn this watch,” said one of the knights, shaking his fist at the stars above. He donned a white half helm; the remainder of his face left exposed was covered in a coarse black beard. “Circling the grounds at this hour… it’s torture!”

“No use bitching about it,” the knight’s counterpart muttered. He too wore a half helm, but his face was covered in hideous pockmarks instead of shaggy hair. “If you don’t like what you do, you gotta make rank. But all you do is bitch, bitch, bitch.” 

The bearded knight didn’t seem to listen. “‘Sides, now they’re saying Death haunts these halls at night, spiriting away students and the like. On top of this whole assassination plot? I swear, this world is ending. If y’ain’t safe in Garreg Mach, y’ain’t safe anywhere.”

Edelgard shut her eyes, sighing softly. Death did haunt Garreg Mach, and it was Edelgard that allowed it.  _ They _ left her no choice. She felt Byleth’s arms tighten around her, and she wondered if her professor could sense the tension mounting in her body. The faint scent of chamomile and lavender wafted off her skin, and it comforted Edelgard in a way she never thought possible. To be held this close, for this long, was a feeling she only had foggy memories of. It did not matter that she failed to hear Byleth’s heartbeat as she rested her face against her chest. She felt…  _ safe. _

“This place went to shit ever since Lady Rhea let all those damned sellswords in,” the bearded knight prattled on.

It was Byleth’s turn to tense. Edelgard stared up at her face, searching, but found nothing betraying her emotion. She knew the word bothered her, though. How could it not? In one word, Byleth and her father and the rest of her mercenaries were reduced to a sword that can be bought.

“A sellsword’s loyalty will always be to the highest bidder. Why My Lady insists on enlisting their service is beyond me.” The bearded knight stroked the shaggy bush on his face, trying to look thoughtful. Edelgard thought he looked more like an ogre trying to figure out where his brain ran off to.

“Are you stupid?” His pockmarked companion snapped. “Captain Jeralt was a soldier in the Holy Guard of Faerghus, and after that he served the Church of Seiros honorably!”

“Yeah, an’ then he threw it all away to become some dirty sellsword--y’ever wonder why? I wager it got to do with that shifty kid o’ his.” He leaned in to his counterpart conspiratorially, but his raucous voice could never hope to hold a whisper. “They say she a demon.”

Byleth’s arms loosened from Edelgard’s waist. Edelgard tried to grab her overcoat and hold her back, but the cloth slipped from her fingers. She watched, helpless, as Byleth peeled away from the cover of the darkness and staggered into the light of the moon. Upon unveiling herself, the bearded knight nearly toppled over into his comrade. His lips trembled stupidly as if he would start to babble. 

“Professor!” The pockmarked knight at least had the sense to greet her, though he too was frozen in fear at first. 

“Good evening.” Byleth’s back was to Edelgard, but she knew the expression on her face had to be terrifying. It was reflected in the startled knights’ beady eyes. “Making rounds?”

Both knights nodded so furiously, Edelgard thought their half helms would fall from their heads. They seemed too startled to notice the obvious intoxication plaguing Byleth. She couldn’t even stand straight. 

“Doesn’t look like it.” Byleth’s words were frostbitten. However, the liquor caused her tongue to drawl. “It looks more like you two are bullshitting on duty. I suggest you keep walking. I’ll not have my students harmed by your carelessness.”

Armor rattled with a banging metallic clamor as both knights took to their patrol with haste. Byleth watched them go, and Edelgard could finally see the glint of her blue eyes. Her heart sank. She almost looked… sad? Edelgard was not sure because as soon as the emotion took over her gaze, it was gone. Byleth gestured for Edelgard to leave the shadows, and she did. 

“You should go back to your room,” Byleth muttered.

“No.” Edelgard held her arm stubbornly. “Those knights may’ve been too dense to notice your drunkenness, but not all of them are that way.”

Byleth was either too tired or too drunk to protest, so she only mumbled unintelligibly. Together, arm-in-arm, they walked through the monastery in a sluggish journey to Byleth’s personal quarters. Edelgard wondered what she was thinking. How often did the knights speak of her that way? Rage boiled up inside of her, so much so that she was too upset to comfort Byleth without sounding angry; she decided it was best to stay silent. Stealing a glance at Byleth, she saw her looking unbothered as usual.

They came upon the dormitories once more. The eggshell-white walls looked gray in the night. All the windows were black as ink as the occupants within slept. Except for one. A single orange candle flame flickered in the windowsill of a room on the bottom floor, welcoming them. To her surprise, the room was Byleth’s. 

“This is it,” Byleth muttered, standing before the door. She fumbled at the pocket within her overcoat, retrieving a key, only to drop it at Edelgard’s feet. 

Edelgard suppressed an agitated sigh as she picked up the key and used it to unlock the door. It opened with a wail, thudding against the wall. Byleth sighed, rocking forward, as if she wanted to just fall into her room and go to sleep. Edelgard braced her arm, chiding her, “What are you doing? Can you not walk?” 

Byleth grumbled something, shrugging her off. “Of course I can.”

As she stormed into her personal quarters, Byleth shed her overcoat, leaving it to fend for itself on the floor. She fell onto her bed like a timbered tree, groaning. Byleth flailed her legs about as she fought to get comfortable, kicking her boots off in the process. They fell to the floor with a thud. The bed creaked and wailed against her struggles as she continued her fight for comfort. Had Edelgard been in a better mood, she might have laughed. 

Byleth’s eyes rolled lazily to find Edelgard still standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Edelgard met her confused stare with an impatient frown and said, “Well, I hope you had fun tonight.”

“Fun?” 

“I assume that’s why you went drinking with them, yes? To have fun?” Edelgard shook her head. Byleth constantly found ways to astound her. But she was more than just astounded. A clawing emotion grated her nerves; the thought of Byleth spending her evening with the knights did not soothe her suspicions about her.

Byleth sat up in her bed, rubbing her head as she pondered the meaning of the word. “No, that’s not it.”

Charmed by her drunken mumble, Edelgard caved and entered her room, but not before she rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. The door groaned shut behind her as if it was wary of what was to come. Edelgard sat at the foot of Byleth’s bed; the mattress was sizable, but it did not bend to the pressure of her body. She eyed Byleth guardedly.

“Then what inspired you to go out drinking with the knights?” 

Byleth shrugged, still embroiled by her brood. Suddenly, as if remembering something, she tapped her head. “It helps me,” she replied flatly.

Edelgard quirked a brow, doubtful. “One would think it would have the opposite effect.”

“No, no, let me explain… You see…” She trailed off. If not for the slight slur to her words and the clear blush to her cheeks, Edelgard would think she was tired, not drunk. “It helps with the voice, the voice in my head.”

Edelgard considered this. “You mean your conscience?”

Byleth sighed, sounding frustrated. “No, someone else.”

“It’s a someone?” Edelgard shook her head. The more she learned about Byleth, the less she knew. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

Byleth’s spirits seemed to dampen. Her eyes were downcast as she fumbled meekly at the golden brooch on her neck. Seeing her crestfallen tugged at Edelgard’s heartstrings. “Not that I won’t try to understand,” she added. 

Looking up, Byleth’s eyes seemed to brighten. 

“I know you’ve been through a lot. I mean, you were born and raised as a mercenary. I can’t begin to comprehend what that must’ve been like—“

“I dream about war, too,” Byleth said. 

“So, you have nightmares?” Edelgard realized sadly.  _ It seems we share a haunted past. _

“Don’t pity me like that.”. A soft hiccup plagued her words, and they lost their edge. “I chose this life. Jeralt could have easily afforded money for an apprenticeship with a blacksmith or sent me off to be a priest… but I wanted to stay. I wanted to fight.”

Edelgard smiled fondly at the thought of a stubborn young Byleth refusing to leave her father’s side. 

“You, however, didn’t choose this life.” Byleth watched her, still hiccuping.

Her smile turned sad. “No, I didn’t. However, I will make do with the life I’ve been dealt. I intend on making the Empire, no, all of Fodlan a better place—what are you doing?!” Edelgard nearly fell backward off the bed as she looked up to see Byleth leaning closer to her from where she sat. 

“I have not the slightest idea,” Byleth confessed in a raspy whisper, backing away. Edelgard could see in her eyes she was being truthful, but that did not stop her heart from hammering in her chest. Byleth fiddled with her brooch again. “You fear me, don’t you?”

Edelgard froze. She knew what made Byleth ask such a question. The memory of a blade breaking against Lord Lonato’s armor rang in her ears. The sight of his face, butchered by the broken edge was as fresh as the life’s blood that spurted from his ears. And before that, she witnessed her cold resignation to killing on the battlefield with a single slash of her sword. The chilling light in her blue eyes still made her shiver on occasion.

“Yes,” Edelgard admitted. “I fear you.”

Nodding, Byleth gestured to the door. “You should leave then.”

“I’m not done!” she protested. “Yes, I fear you, but that does not mean I think you will hurt me.” She realized the words were true as they left her lips. It made her breath catch in her throat.  _ She would never hurt me, at least, not for now. _ It was a dangerous thought, but as she saw the soft glow in Byleth’s eyes, she was unable to think otherwise. She sighed uneasily as some strange confidence possessed her and forced her to continue, “Your strength and conviction in battle is as terrifying as it is motivating and beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Byleth repeated the word as if she had never heard it before.

“Yes, beautiful.”

Byleth shook her head. “No, you are right to fear me. I’m like they say… a demon.”

A shrewd smirk found its way onto Edelgard’s lips. Without thinking, she lunged, grabbing each of Byleth’s wrists in her hands and forcing them above her head. Byleth didn’t cry out as she was pinned down; instead, she gazed up in awe, watching her closely. 

“A demon would not allow themselves to be pinned down by their student,” Edelgard pointed out haughtily.

Byleth didn’t fight her, but her eyes widened as she understood. The blush in her face seemed to darken, but Edelgard was convinced it was a trick of the light. Her hair spilled across the white pillow, looking like a dark blue river curling through snow. Edelgard’s grip tightened as she waited for Byleth’s response with a pounding heart. 

Then… the shadow returned.  _ You could end this now _ , it said in an evil whisper.  _ All your worries would die with her. Do it. Slit her throat! _

The shadow was right. All of Edelgard’s obstacles revolved around Byleth. The power within her and the influence she had over the Church was enough to cripple Edelgard’s plans, perhaps thwart them completely. She was no fool. She knew what it meant if Byleth stood against her. Edelgard became hyper-aware of the dagger sheathed on her waist, waiting to be put to use. Freeing one of Byleth’s wrists, Edelgard’s hand trembled as it moved to find her weapon, guided by the whispering touch of her shadow.

Her racing thoughts skidded to a halt when she felt Byleth gently touch her face with the hand left unpinned. For once, warmth radiated from her touch. “You still aren’t sleeping,” Byleth whispered. Her thumb traced beneath her eyelid with the same feather-light softness of her voice. Edelgard knew there was a dark circle there, and as she felt her caress, she felt like it could be wiped away.

Staring down at Byleth, feeling her touch, the violent impulse to harm her was chewed and spit out by something even more dangerous. Inside, she fought the growing urge to do something she never had the urge to do before. In that moment, she wanted to kiss her. 

With Byleth staring up at her with wide, curious eyes, and the soft color to her features, Edelgard grew weak. Frustratingly, horribly weak. Byleth’s lips parted, as if to ask a question, but nothing came, and Edelgard was forced to fixate on something she never knew she wanted. It angered her. It scared her. It tempted her to lean in closer, close enough to feel Byleth’s warm breath against her face. The smoky scent of bourbon lingered on her lips, intoxicating her. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, Edelgard pulled away. Shame tainted her. Not only did she lack the nerve to kill her potential enemy, she lacked the nerve to kiss her too. A tempest of confusing emotions battled in her brain, deadlocked in a fight for dominance.

As she waged war on herself, Byleth rolled off her bed with a thud. 

“Are you okay?!” Edelgard exclaimed, watching incredulously as Byleth rose to her hands and knees. 

“Tired,” she mumbled. “I need to rest.” Byleth rose shakily to her feet and began to fumble at her brooch again. There was only a slight crease to her brow that betrayed her frustration.

“What are you doing?” Edelgard asked. Her face felt hot as she heard the brooch’s clasp unbuckle. 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Byleth deadpanned. 

In the center of the room, she shed her armor. First, it was the shoulder armor; she tossed it off of her with a careless flick. The iron pieces fell onto the carpet with a muffled clang. Next, she unhinged her armored bustier. When she finished, she chucked it haphazardly onto the shelf of her bay window. Only Edelgard flinched when the discarded bustier caused all her books to topple over. 

“Clumsy,” Edelgard murmured, hurrying to the fallen books. She briskly picked them up, feeling the worn leather curiously. These books were read often and repeatedly; some were so old and used that their titles were warped. The pages of several books were yellowed by time and brittle from constant flipping. She found herself wondering what Byleth’s favorite book was. 

After she returned the small library to its former state of order, Edelgard turned to see Byleth dumping the armor from her arms to the floor. All that was left on her upper body was a form-fitting black tube top with short sleeves; the material accentuated the curve of her bust more obviously without her golden brooch and cloth collar impeding it. She slowly transformed from a mercenary to a young woman that was a year or two Edelgard’s senior. She wasn’t able to recover from the whiplash of her metamorphosis without forgetting how to breathe.

As more of the cold metal freed her frame, Edelgard was reminded of her strength. The muscles in her arms rippled as she brought her leg up on her desk chair to unleash the plates of metal from her knees. Edelgard watched the contours of her thighs against her lace stockings; the black floral pattern hugged every inch of her legs, and Edelgard was ashamed to envy a piece of clothing. 

“Why do you look at me like that?” Byleth asked quietly. 

Edelgard was not sure herself, but once Byleth called her out on it, she was forced to look away. “I’m only making sure you don’t topple over in your efforts to undress yourself!” 

“Of course. Don’t let me fall.” 

Byleth took a seat in her desk chair, causing it to tip backwards slightly. Had she not leaned forward, she would have fallen over. Her fingers slowly began to work at her stockings, sliding up to the top of her thigh and slowly tugging them down. A faint imprint of the flowers remained on her skin as she rolled them off, sitting amongst the scars on her legs in a beautiful dichotomy. Edelgard felt Byleth’s gaze on her as she slipped off one of her stockings. Her heavily-lidded eyes watched her from beneath her lashes. 

_ Is she trying to seduce me? _ Edelgard wondered, chest tightening as her entire body caught fire. 

The blush on Byleth’s cheeks mirrored Edelgard’s, but Edelgard’s blush was not caused by a night of drinking spirits. She enjoyed a drink of something else, something she usually didn’t partake in, and it was making her more and more flustered by the minute. Her mind wandered, wondering if Byleth’s skin would blush if Edelgard traced her fingers down her leg in the same manner as her shedded stockings. She wondered if her thighs would twitch against her touch. She wondered what kind of sounds she’d make… how loud she would get... what it would sound like if she moaned her name. By the time Byleth slipped off her last stocking, Edelgard thought she had a heart attack.

In an attempt to recover, Edelgard started collecting Byleth’s scattered armor. She stacked it neatly beside her collection of books, trying desperately to think about anything but the beautiful woman behind her. 

Byleth sat in the chair longer than she needed to, as if she forgot what she was doing. Then, she looked up at Edelgard and asked, “Why are you still here?” 

It was a question Edelgard had no prayer of answering. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you wish to stay?” There was no innuendo in Byleth's voice. She was as innocent as she was honest.

Edelgard could not help her mind from wandering. Her blush was redder than the cape that rested on her shoulder. “Of course not.” She spoke as if the idea insulted her. 

Byleth remained sitting on the chair. All that remained of her usual attire was the tube top and shorts. Her muscular frame was exposed to the kisses of moonlight that penetrated the windows. Shadows hugged the planes of her muscles, capturing Edelgard’s hungry gaze once more. A carnal desire coursed through her like never before, and she had not the slightest idea on how to quench it without acting on it.

“I thought you were leaving?” Byleth pressed, sounding confused. 

“I am,” Edelgard assured her, frowning. She walked by Byleth, but was stopped by a hand grabbing her own. It was Byleth’s. Edelgard hesitated; the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears drowned out all the sense from her thoughts.

“How much did you hear back when you were spying?” Byleth asked, voice rasping. 

“I wasn’t--” Edelgard sighed in defeat. “I heard all of it.” She couldn’t lie, not when her mere touch sent her reeling. 

“I don’t want--don’t let what Sir Catherine said disturb you,” Byleth said. It was obvious she spoke of the ‘sleeping with the top student’ accusation. “I would never.”

Her statement wounded Edelgard more than it soothed her, and the disappointment she felt only frustrated her more. Why? Why did she want to act on this attraction? And why did it have to be with the most inconvenient of partners? She clenched her teeth. Ever since Byleth came into her life, her ambitions seemed more and more impossible to achieve. Now, the very person that could be destined to stop her was making her feel things she never wanted to feel. 

“I know you wouldn’t,” Edelgard murmured. She offered a smile, though it strained her. “I pay no mind to rumors. Trust me, I’ve encountered courtiers that are far more creative in their accusations than Sir Catherine.”

Byleth squeezed her hand, though it may as well have been her heart. “That doesn’t make it right.” She stood, wobbling like a newborn foal, and Edelgard grabbed her other hand to brace her. Byleth’s blue eyes were deep enough to drown in. “You’re my top student because you put your all into everything you do.”

Byleth was making this harder than it needed to be. Did she even realize Edelgard considered killing her before? As she melted into her gaze she realized that Byleth would never think of such a thing. Edelgard felt her resolve begin to dissolve and quickly released her hands from Byleth’s. 

“Thank you, my teacher,” she murmured. Her smile did not meet her eyes. “I could say the same to you. Those rumors about you are cruel.” To think, Edelgard once believed in them. 

“Words cut deeper than swords,” Byleth agreed solemnly. So, what people said  _ did _ bother her. Edelgard doubted she would have admitted such while she was sober. 

“But they’re words nonetheless. Words can’t kill you, my teacher,” Edelgard soothed. She both feared and hoped nothing could kill her.

Shakily, Byleth dropped to one knee. Edelgard watched her, wide-eyed in confusion. She opened her mouth to demand the meaning of this, but Byleth silenced her by bringing both of her hands to her lips. Softly, she brushed her lips across her knuckles, making Edelgard feel weak. When she opened her eyes again, she was gazing up at Edelgard, still blushing. “Thank you for bringing me home.” 

Speechless, Edelgard gaped at her professor. The feeling of her lips against her skin brought about a warmth inside of her she never wished to lose. But, she made a promise to herself. She would not yield to the sword. She tried her best to remain cordial. “It’s the least I could do, my teacher.” 

It took every ounce of strength in her to pry her hands away. Hurriedly, before she changed her mind, she went for the door, leaving Byleth kneeling behind her. The whole time, Byleth’s eyes never left her. She stopped in the doorway when she heard Byleth say, “Good night.”

Edelgard whispered back, “Good night.” 

Shutting the door behind her, Edelgard slid down to the ground, burying her face in her hands. “What’s wrong with me?” she asked herself. The night stole her conviction, and she was left with a sense of dread only trumped by her growing desire. Bringing her fingertips to her lips, she recalled how close she was to kissing Byleth; lust, anger, and fear made themselves at home in her heart. How could she think it would be so easy to resist her? Difficult or not, Edelgard knew she couldn’t give in. Her longing must have read her thoughts because it flared up in resistance and made her ache. 

Her stir of emotions prompted her to one glaring confession: “I want her.” 


	12. The Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening festivities celebrating the Goddess's Rite of Rebirth begin, but danger lurks in the shadows. As the Black Eagles take up the mantle of defending the Holy Mausoleum from potential adversaries, Edelgard does everything in her power to stop them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING!**  
>  This chapter contains scenes of graphic violence and gore. If you are sensitive to content of this nature, please skip this chapter.

A river of fire poured into Garreg Mach monastery, lit by the torches of thousands of acolytes that embarked on a pilgrimage to celebrate the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth. For every hundred that came on horseback or in wagons pulled by great oxen, another thousand journeyed on foot. Pegasus and wyvern riders took wing, soaring amongst the stars as they too traveled to celebrate the Goddess’s potential return. The festivities spilled out from the monastery into Garreg Mach Proper, where the townsfolk lined their sidewalks with blossoms of blue and white. Banners and streamers bearing a single blue star against a milky white cloth waved at every man, woman, and child that passed by. Hymns honoring the Goddess and praying for Her return filled the air, echoing into the mountains that surrounded Garreg Mach and beyond. 

Within the monastery, the celebration rose to fever pitch. The various walkways and halls were packed tight with believers from all across the continent donning ceremonial white robes with bright blue sashes that twinkled like the stars above. Children ran through the crowds, laughing and wagging sparklers crackling with light that mimicked the shine of the Blue Sea Star. From the cathedral, the organ droned as it had been since daybreak, playing the same tune over and over so that the Goddess may never miss a beat if She were to return. The Holy Choir of Seiros sang along to the organ, chanting an archaic language that is said to invoke the presence of the Goddess.

It was all for naught in Edelgard’s eyes. She watched as the believers flocked together, smiling and laughing and sharing tales of miracles and divinity, feeling nothing but disdain. If the Goddess were real and Her mercy true, then why did She stand by idly as Edelgard’s flesh was torn apart in the darkness of those forsaken dungeons? Or better yet, where was the Church? Those said to keep the people safe and sheltered from evil were nowhere to be found when the most vile of creatures violated her body in the name of science, in the name of Crests. She knew better than to pose the question to the faithful; if they had half as many excuses for heretics as they had for the Goddess’s carelessness, no one would burn again. So, she resigned to watching them, loathing them, and took pleasure in the idea of taking the bones of one of their saints by the end of the night. 

Byleth told them to rendezvous at the Dining Hall before they left for guard duty. Edelgard wished she didn’t. The Dining Hall was the busiest location of all, and for good reason. The food was free. Anyone that claimed a life of piety and longed for the Goddess’s rebirth deserved a full belly in the eyes of the Church. They got one thing right, at least. Most of the believers zealous enough to make the pilgrimage to Garreg Mach on this day rarely got a meal as full and as rich as the one being served tonight. She could smell it wafting out from the windows, tempting her. She glanced back to see plates with roasted lamb, glazed with an egg-and-lemon sauce; the meat was so tender it fell from the bone as soon as it was picked up. Honeyed peas and carrots glistened on every plate beside creamed lumps of potato. Cheese, ripe and blue, was served as a  _ hors d’oevre  _ alongside hard salami slices, marbled capocollo, and salty lumps of ricotta. For dessert, the slices of pastiera seemed endless, and filled the savory air with the fresh aroma of citrus. 

It was the eggs that were most prominent. Shells dyed a pale blue after being hard-boiled to perfection seemed to be in almost every hand of passersby. It was said that the cracking of the egg symbolized the way the sky would split when the Goddess finally returned to spread Her miracles. The worst part was that the people were encouraged to leave their eggshells on the ground like some macabre confetti. Edelgard could not walk a single step without stepping on one. 

“Aw, I’m so hungry,” Caspar complained, eyeing the Dining Hall. “Why can’t we feast?”

Hubert chuckled, smiling deviously. “By all means, Caspar, feast. No one will hold you back. Keep in mind, though, that feasting before a battle is frightful bad luck. No one wants their last meal to be gutted from their belly.”

“You’ll just inhale it all anyways,” Lindhardt added with contempt.

“We don’t even know if there’s going to  _ be _ a battle,” Casper argued, clenching his teeth. 

Edelgard couldn’t condemn him for wanting to partake in the meal. It smelled heavenly. “You don’t need the bad luck, Caspar,” she told him gently. “This is your first mission since--”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Caspar scratched inside his ear, unenthused. 

“I remind you  _ not _ to interrupt Her Highness,” Hubert hissed. 

“Professor said we will get to feast tomorrow if we carry out our mission well!” Dorothea reminded him excitedly. 

Edelgard smiled, not because she anticipated tomorrow’s feast, but because she knew it would never come. The Black Eagles would fail their first mission tonight, and when they do, Edelgard will finally be able to rest easy… at least, for a little while. 

“I don’t like this. There’s too many people.” Bernadetta pressed close to Edelgard’s side. She started doing so more often since the Battle and Magdred Way. Edelgard didn’t mind. She was just happy Bernadetta would continue to fight alongside them. 

“I am liking to learn more of Fodlan culture. These are strange but fantastic rituals,” Petra said, watching the festivities continue in wonder. “Truly you are believing in one goddess?”

“The Church of Seiros believes in one Goddess named Sothis, yes,” Edelgard said. 

Petra’s eyes widened. “Does the Goddess Sothis rule of fire, or water, or earth, or wind?”

“She rules over all,” Edelgard said, not believing in any of it. 

“That is such strangeness, but I am liking to understand,” Petra murmured thoughtfully. 

“One would think Garreg Mach would be more cautious and only allow a couple hundred people in the gates at a time,” Edelgard mused. “Instead, they’re letting them enter by the thousands.”

“Well, they have nothing to fear!” Ferdinand insisted with a self-satisfied smile. “Not when they have us around.”

“Yeah!” Caspar agreed, clapping his hand encouragingly over Ferdinand’s back, unintentionally knocking the wind out of him.

Ferdinand cleared his throat, tugging at his collar as he tried to recover gracefully, though a blush still stained his cheeks. When Dorothea started giggling at him, his blush darkened. His savior from complete embarrassment came from Byleth. She walked up the steps leading to the Dining Hall, a blotch of ink seeping through pale parchment as she pushed through the white-robed people. Flanking her was Seteth and Flayn, Lady Rhea’s chief aide and ward respectively. Edelgard was not delighted to see either of them in Byleth’s presence. 

“You all are looking suspiciously content,” Seteth observed. His emerald green eyes scored over the Black Eagles, unimpressed. His face, permanently wrinkled by frown lines, never seemed void of displeasure. It was a wonder how a man so close to the Goddess could look so miserable. Was She not meant to bring happiness? “You  _ are _ aware it is your duty to protect the Holy Mausoleum tonight? If anyone were to defile such a sacred place… It would be a disgrace to the Goddess herself.”

“Pay no heed to my brother! He tries to act all serious, but in reality he cares about all the students!” Flayn chirped, desperately trying to clear the air with her usual chipper smile. “He worries about you, is all!” 

Edelgard doubted Seteth worried about anything except Flayn and Lady Rhea, but she remained polite. “Of course. I never doubted so for a second.” 

Flayn beamed and proceeded to put her foot in her mouth. “He’s so worried, in fact, that he said you’d be better off patrolling a coffin!”

It was Seteth’s turn to clear his throat to hide his embarrassment. A meek pink blush found its way beneath the crow’s feet wrinkling his eyes. “That was only a jest,” he muttered. “I have the utmost confidence in all of you. A sense of urgency is all I wanted. Professor, I am certain you will lead your students well tonight; so, if you’ll excuse us, Flayn and I will be going to the Goddess Tower.”

Edelgard was not sorry to see them go. The less of Lady Rhea’s pets around, the better. Byleth was left standing alone on the last step, gazing at Edelgard. Her eyes were as blue as the Goddess’s star above and just as bright in the night. Edelgard had to look away before her heart got a chance to spring to life again. Ever since the night she almost kissed her, she’d been unable to look at Byleth for too long. She could not look at her without thinking of the soft blush in her cheeks, or the way she looked with her hands pinned above her head, or how gently she spoke to her as she touched her face. 

“We’re missing one,” Byleth observed.

Snapping out of her reverie, Edelgard glanced around her, noting the presence of all the Black Eagles, but Byleth was right. They were still missing one. “She should be here soon.” 

Byleth glanced around at her students, and nodded with understanding. “Does she know where to meet us?”

“I told her after her last class got out,” Edelgard said, staring ahead at the crowd of passing chanters. They marched with banners bearing the blue star and gazed at the night sky, basking in its glory.

“I’m sorry!” A voice, soft as silk, cried out from the chanting mob. “Excuse me! I’m sorry, sir!”

Fighting her way through the crowd, another student came forward to join the Black Eagles. She ran up the steps, panting. Her long, strawberry blonde hair bounced with every step, flowing behind her in its ponytail like a pale, silken flame. When she found Byleth and the others at the top of the stairs, she smiled sweetly, face flushed from the effort of reaching them. 

“I’m sorry I’m late!” She bowed to the Black Eagles, and then to Byleth, apologetic. “There are just so many people… I couldn’t push them all, not when they’re having so much fun.” 

“You’re here, that’s all that matters,” Byleth assured her in monotone. “Thank you for joining us, Mercedes.”

Mercedes blushed. “When you requested help with this mission, I must say, I was as flattered as I was surprised.” Her admission came as gentle as a dove’s wing. “I won’t let you down, Professor. You can rely on me!” 

“We’re happy to have you, Mercedes,” Edelgard said, smiling graciously. 

“Thank you, Lady Edelgard.” Mercedes returned her smile. Her lavender-colored eyes were as soft as the flower they resembled. 

As Mercedes joined the rest of the Black Eagles, welcomed by hugs and smiles, Edelgard watched intently. Having Mercedes join them gave her peace of mind. It didn’t take much to suggest her as an asset to Byleth; after the last mission, the Black Eagles’ need for another healer was more than apparent. It only took a name-drop for Byleth to agree to invite her. Mercedes was her much-needed trump card for the night. 

The tolling cathedral bells for once did not overtake Garreg Mach with their chime. They sounded distant among the clamor of celebration and the chorus of music. Nonetheless, the time had come. Byleth led her students down the steps of the Dining Hall. An ocean of white parted before Byleth as she entered the crowd. Whatever latent instinct resided within them demanded they keep their distance from her; Edelgard wished she possessed it. With every passing day, she was more drawn to her. 

The crowd thinned as they made their way through the docks, yet eggshells still littered the ground, looking more like forgotten breadcrumbs than symbols of the Goddess. Ink black water sloshed at the pier, waving at them as they ran by. The water mirrored the night sky, rippling with thousands of stars, holding the moon. It was a beautiful sight they had no time to behold. 

Byleth picked up the pace. Edelgard and the rest of the students had to run to keep up, pushing past festival-goers and priests alike. They climbed up stairs again, running down a vacant walkway wedged between two buildings. It grew eerily quiet. The distant music and laughter was muffled by the thick masonry of the buildings they ran between. 

At the end of the alley stood the slouched silhouette of a man. As Byleth skidded to a stop before him, Edelgard recognized who he was.  _ So he found us after all. _

“Professor,” he greeted breathlessly. “I’m glad I found you.” 

“Tomas,” Byleth greeted, steely. “Is there a problem? We have somewhere to be.”

Moonlight contoured his features, but it did him no justice. Tomas still looked like someone broke a bag of damp flour across his face. His skin clumped into purplish tags on the floppy cheeks that dropped to his chin, hiding his neck and causing his jowls to jiggle and droop. His robes, once white, were grayed and moth-eaten and fit too tightly around the most unflattering of places. Even with the night breeze coming to their rescue, Edelgard could still smell his reek; he smelled like sodden mushrooms left to sit in the muddy earth for too long. It took everything in her not to wrinkle her nose at him. But for all his uncomeliness, nothing disgusted her more than his eyes. They were set a little too far into his skull, as if he stared out at them from a mask. What’s more, his gray eyes seemed too glossy to be real; they glistened with wetness, but no matter how often he blinked, no tears fell. 

And yet, she needed him. It was her that called upon him tonight. Tomas, her flabby knight in shabby armor. The irony was too cruel to dwell on. If there existed a path that led Edelgard to victory without the help of Tomas and his slithering cohorts, she would take it in a heartbeat. Alas, life was not so easy. 

So, she feigned ignorance. “Yes, what ails you Tomas?”

Tomas gazed at Edelgard. His cracked lips curled into a brief smile, meant only for her, before it withered into a fearful frown. “The cemetery! I heard something ghastly down there… and I saw strange figures. I fear—I fear they mean to deface the graves!” 

Byleth hesitated. “Where are the knights?” 

“Guarding other places of importance.” He twiddled his fingers together nervously. There was a strange twinkle in his glassy eyes. “Please, you must help. Time is of the essence!” 

“It seems we have no choice,” Edelgard muttered. Byleth’s rigid stance surprised her. She almost felt sorry for her. Grabbing the sleeve of her overcoat, she said, “The least we can do is check.” 

Byleth nodded, jaw locked. 

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Tomas hobbled down the alley. “Come, come, this way.” 

Edelgard proceeded after Byleth. Behind her, she could feel the other Black Eagles grow restless. Their eyes glowed in the night like stars, and their armor glowed with the pale light of the moon; they held the entire sky in their bodies and they would soon break like the eggshells they walked upon. Caspar twitched at the slightest crackle underfoot. The shadows grew long as the time passed, reaching for the students as they hurried behind their limping guide. Tomas stood at the top of the stairs that led to the cemetery, pointing down into the abyss with a trembling finger. 

“Down there,” he whispered.

There was no torchlight to distinguish anything but blackness so thick it looked impenetrable. No sound carried up from the cemetery but a whisper of wind. Edelgard grew uneasy by the eeriness of it. Byleth, however, drew a light of fire from her palm and slowly descended down the steps. Edelgard mimicked her, extending her hand into the darkness with a wisp of flame dancing in her palm. The Black Eagles followed, leaving Tomas at the top of the stairs to watch them with those sunken in eyes. Orange light glowed upon the cracked faces of tombstones from Byleth’s fire. Edelgard’s flame flickered against the stony visages of two gargoyles that stood sentinel atop their own pillars at the bottom of the stairs. They were hunched over, the great horned beasts; with their long tails spiraling around their perches, they gazed perpetually at the graves, silently warding off evil. The fires brought to light names that Edelgard didn’t recognize etched in the weathered stone slabs that populated the grounds. Some of the graves were so worn, they bore no names at all. Byleth hesitated before a nameless grave, staring at it in earnest.

“There’s nothing here,” Caspar noticed, growing agitated. 

“Not even so much as a footprint,” Lindhardt agreed.

“Thank the Goddess,” Mercedes murmured. “It would have been awful to find the resting souls disturbed.”

Byleth glared up at the top of the stairs. “Nothing and no one is here!” 

“Are you quite sure?” Tomas sounded innocent enough, but Edelgard knew better.

A scream ripped through the air. It was Bernadetta’s. Her arrow whistled by Edelgard’s ear as it shot by. Before she could curse her risky maneuver, she noticed where the arrow was volleyed. It cut through the dark, missing one of the gargoyles to land uselessly on the stone stairs. 

The gargoyles’ eyes glowed like brimstone in the shadows.

“Dark magic,” Hubert hissed. “It’s revived them!” 

The gargoyles’ tails slithered free from the stone pillars to curl in unison as their stony skin turned to glistening scales. Edelgard felt her stomach sink as they stretched their membranous wings. Long, slithering tongues lolled from their oblong jaws, dripping with saliva. 

“Dear Goddess, what evil has befallen these poor creatures?” Mercedes prayed quietly in the dark. “Let them return to You.” 

“Take up arms!” Byleth shouted. 

One of the gargoyles shrieked in response. It sounded like metal grating against stone, piercing Edelgard’s ears with assault. It took wing, flying at the students with another screech. Startled, Edelgard’s fire went out, and half the cemetery returned to darkness. Bernadetta screamed again. Wings beat forebodingly around them and soft hisses filled the dark. Then, she saw its eyes. They penetrated the pitch black night, two angry embers. A strange clicking noise sounded as Edelgard made eye contact with the creature.

“Damn you,” Edelgard hissed, bringing her fire back to light. 

As she did so, she saw the gargoyle lunge for Ferdinand. He cried out in horror as its fangs buried into his thigh. In response, he brought his lance down, stabbing its back. It squealed into his flesh, flapping its wings frantically as black blood dripped from its gray skin, smelling of sulfur. 

The second gargoyle soared over them, roaring. Its outstretched talons dove for Dorothea. 

It was Petra that swung her sword at the diving gargoyle, cutting open its belly. Black droplets rained onto Petra, and she shied away from the odor with a retch. Dorothea came to her side as the gargoyle swooped down again. The gargoyle seemed unbothered by the pink and green entrails that dangled from its gored belly. As Thunder crackled from Dorothea’s fingertips, it twirled out of the way, tongue flapping around its snout as it emanated a throaty clicking noise. 

“Die! Die!” Caspar punched at the gargoyle clinging to Ferdinand’s bloody leg with his gauntlets, but he got beaten back by its flailing wings. 

Edelgard was able to dislodge it with a blast of Fire. The gargoyle released him with a hollow wail that sounded like the peel of a razor as putrid blood squirted from the aggravated wound between its wings. Edelgard sent her Fire down again, but she suddenly stared up at the sky watching her blazing magic join the stars. Its tail had slithered around her ankle, tugging, and she fell backward. 

Light faded in and out in shades of blue, red, and purple as Dorothea, Byleth, and Hubert used their magic on the other gargoyle. It whirled through the air, raining blood from its exposed guts. The flashing lights played upon the gargoyle’s face as it curled its lips at Edelgard, looking like some grotesque hallucination. Edelgard brought her Hand Axe up from her waist as she sat up; scooting backwards she threw it at the creature as it lunged for her leg. The flying axe cleaved into its shoulder, where it remained lodged. Its scream was loud enough to cause the corpses to tremble in their graves. Its burning amber eyes bore into hers, and it opened its jaws so wide, they seemed to dislodge. A whistling arrow whirred past her ear, burrowing into one of the glowing amber eyes. 

“Edelgard!” Bernadetta cried. She hurried to her side, offering a hand. 

Edelgard took it, and Bernadetta helped her to her feet. “Nice shot,” she praised. 

Bernadetta smiled, but her smile twisted into horror as her eyes found the gargoyle rising behind her. “It’s not over!” 

Flames curled around Edelgard’s fingers as she spun to send Fire flying into the gargoyle’s face. It wailed as molten flesh dripped from its smoldering skin. The stench was more disgusting than the sight of its flesh receding from its remaining amber eye, which burned and shriveled into a blackened orb that fell to her feet. The gargoyle fell next, curling up on the ground, still clicking as its face melted into something unrecognizable. Edelgard kept her fire ready in her hand, fearing the creature may rise again. Red flames glinted in its shiny gray scales and black blood. It never stirred. 

Its companion met an equally gruesome fate. Petra’s sword, guided by the light of Byleth’s blasting fire, severed its head from its body. Its horned head rolled to the foot of a grave while its lifeless body dropped; its tail still twitched and flicked desperately like a fish out of water.

The stench that emanated off of the gargoyles faded into a painful memory as their dead bodies turned to dust. The dust was the color of ash. Hubert approached one of the piles, crouching, he rubbed the chalky substance between his fingers. 

“What caused this?” Byleth demanded, coming to stand behind him as she surveyed the cemetery. 

Hubert grimaced, finding Edelgard’s eyes. They both knew what, or rather who, caused the gargoyles to animate. Hubert pursed his waxy lips, allowing his grimace to settle into a more pensive expression before he faced Byleth. “This magic is strange even to me,” Hubert lied. “I only know it comes from a sorcerer that practices the dark arts.” 

“What does that mean?” Dorothea asked. 

“It means that Garreg Mach is under attack,” Byleth said. “These gargoyles.... They’re just a distraction.”

Astute as ever, Byleth sniffed out the truth quicker than Edelgard anticipated. She bit the inside of her cheek nervously as Byleth rushed to Ferdinand. He was sitting up, wounded leg outstretched as Mercedes kneeled over him. A pained expression marred his usually self-assured face. 

White light flickered as Mercedes tended to Ferdinand. She smiled reassuringly at him as he winced. “Try not to overdo it next time, okay?”

“Can you still fight?” Byleth asked, standing over them. 

Ferdinand tilted his head back, chuckling. “A little magic trick isn’t enough to take me down, Professor.” His arrogant smile returned, and he flipped his hair back with a wave of his hand. “It’s just a flesh wound.” 

“Most wounds are,” Hubert growled. Edelgard had a feeling he hoped Ferdinand would be out of the fight. 

“How is that?” Mercedes asked.

“Right as rain.” Ferdinand got to his feet, only staggering mildly. “Have no fear, Ferdinand von Aegir is--”

“Good, let’s move out.” Byleth did not allow Ferdinand a moment to bask in the attention he was getting. For once, Edelgard wished she did. As Byleth hurried up the steps, the bell towers gonged. She heard her curse under her breath as the ringing bells taunted the passage of time. 

At the top of the steps, Tomas still waited for them. A grin wrinkled his face. “Oh, many thanks, Professor! Such a dastardly trick that was. And such arcane magic...” 

Byleth didn’t look at him, instead she peered down the vacant walkway that led to the mausoleum. “The enemy is here,” she said. “You must alert the Knights of Seiros. Find one of the captains. Sir Jeralt, Sir Alois, Sir Catherine, it doesn’t matter, but find one of them and tell them to bring reinforcements to the Holy Mausoleum. It’s likely the enemy is there already.” 

Tomas regarded Byleth and her orders with a sheepish expression. “You mean to rely on me?” His voice was politely surprised, but Edelgard knew him well enough to sense his dark amusement. “How honored I am to assist, but I must voice my concern. I am old and can’t move with a quickness like you young people. Perhaps send a student in my stead, that way--”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Byleth fixed him with a cold glare. “I need everyone of my students to fight tonight. It has to be you.”

With fiddling fingers, Tomas licked his dry, cracked lips, yielding. “Of course, Professor. I’ll find them at once.” He gave a bow, but it was rigid. 

Byleth drew her sword, pointing to the shadowed walkway. “We are going to the Holy Mausoleum, stop for nothing and no one.” 

Down the dark hall they ran. Their footsteps echoed to the toll of the bells. Congregations of the Church’s followers amassed before them, dancing and singing and proclaiming their anticipation of Sothis’s return. Once their celebration was interrupted by the ceaseless charge of the Black Eagles, however, they slowly started to shuffle out of the way, cursing the rudeness of the runners. Their eyes grew wide like startled cattle as Byleth drew a wedge into their herd in her pursuit of the mausoleum; the sight of rancid-smelling black blood on her clothes caused the cattle to spook; some froze in wide-eyed fear while others darted haplessly into the night, babbling nonsense about demons. Edelgard and the other students followed Byleth with the same urgency. Armed to the teeth, wearing blood stained clothes, their mere presence tossed the festival into chaos. It was not long before Edelgard had to start shoving people out of her way in order to keep pace with the professor. 

Fireworks whistled as they were launched and burst into spirals of blue, exacerbating the growing pandemonium as their booms and wails echoed throughout the monastery. The flashing blue lights shone on the crazed faces of festival-goers as they flooded in a mass exodus from the cathedral, storming the bridge with an onslaught of fear. Their eyelids peeled back to expose the whites. Their mouths were slack with fear and shock. 

Edelgard heard someone shout, “Death! Death is upon us! Goddess, have mercy on us all!” 

As one shouted, another screamed, “Death rides on black destrier! Heads will roll! Mercy! Mercy!”

The cattle trampled down the bridge, flinching at every crackle of a blasting firework and wailing at the Goddess Star. They bleated together, the frightened livestock, “Death, Death, Death,” until the word seemed to have lost its meaning. “Death, Death, Death,” the shouts followed, echoing along with the boom of fireworks and the ceaseless tome of the bells. 

Edelgard passed a child sobbing as his sparkler petered out into white ash. Seeing the snot and tears that slickened his red face as he looked around helplessly in the charging crowd prompted the first feeling of guilt she had that night. His cries reminded her of the cries she heard in the dark many years ago, her little brother’s cries. She remembered herself, she remembered why this was necessary. Her brother, and many children his age, never got the chance to be swaddled in silken white robes or run gleefully with sparklers in hand. The Church allowed them to be lost to the darkness, forgotten by time; they were just bodies paid to keep the false peace. But Edelgard would never forget, as time went on, she only remembered more. Chaos may reign tonight, but in the future, peace, true peace, would rule supreme. She would make sure of that.

“We’re too late,” Byleth said. 

They entered the abandoned cathedral. Scripture scattered across the floor amongst the eggshells, words of worship lost in the chaos. A column of iron chandeliers hung above them as they walked down the aisle. Edelgard heard someone sobbing between the rows of booths. The organ player watched them walk in, worrying his long gray beard with his gnarled fingers. The glare of his glasses hid his eyes, but Edelgard assumed they held fear. The Holy Choir of Seiros remained standing, each looking more frightened than the last. It was the priest that presided over the music that approached them first. 

“Thank Sothis you are here.” His pallid face glistened like slug skin, made green by the nausea of his fear. “I don’t know how they did it, but… Death materialized in the Holy Mausoleum, and with it are men that mean to rob Saint Seiros’s grave!”

Byleth’s face was unmoved by the raw terror in the priest’s eyes or the way his lips trembled as he spoke. “Play your music,” she told him. 

“Wh-what?” The priest backed away, perturbed. “B-but Death! Death has come for us! How can we play our music when our end is imminent?” 

“If you believe you are about to die, why not die doing something that brings joy? Play your music.” Byleth’s glaring eyes betrayed her mounting rage; it was enough to make Edelgard’s heart pound. “The people are panicking… Are you not a member of the Church? You are meant to be there for them in their darkest hour.”

The priest nodded, though sweat beaded at his brow. “Y-yes… Play the music.” He turned to the elderly organ player and his choir. “Play the music!” 

With a final tug of his beard, the organ player took his seat. His skeletal finger struck a chord that harmonized with the hum of the choir. Soon, their song returned to its former glory, but a sense of urgency poisoned the air. They had no idea if this song would be their last. So they sang and they played their final hymn loud enough for the stars to hear above. 

But it was not the living Death wanted. Death came to reclaim the bones of the dead. 

Byleth led the Black Eagles toward the Holy Mausoleum. The priest watched them pass from the altar, flipping through scripture, muttering prayers desperately under his breath. The doors to the mausoleum were opened, and within Edelgard saw the orange flicker of candlelight. Together, the Black Eagles stood in the doorway, weapons drawn, as the mausoleum opened before them. 

Thousands of candles sat on the tile floor, winking embers against the mosaics. Some candles burnt down to the end of their oily wick, sitting in pools of molten wax that looked like melted butter, others still burned bright, standing tall, but they burned all the same. Their flames played upon the faces of the intruders, men of the Western Church, clad in gray and white with solemn faces and tight frowns. Orange glowed on the pitch black armor of Death and burned the crescent blade of his scythe red. His mount, just as black as his armor, snorted as the Black Eagles entered, causing some of the candles to blow out in puffs of white smoke. The Death Knight watched them; his blood red eyes burned brighter than any fire. Those glowing eyes found Edelgard only to slip behind her and find Mercedes. 

A hollow chuckle slithered from his horned-skull helm as he glared at Mercedes. “How cruel. A predestined encounter.”

Mercedes shifted behind Edelgard nervously. “Scary…” 

Behind the Death Knight, a mage conjured magic from his fingertips. It played upon Saint Seiros’s tomb in wisps of gray and purple. He paid no heed to the entrance of the Black Eagles, for he knew that he would not fail. Their victory was guaranteed, and they would be rewarded greatly for their success. Why worry about a bunch of kids and their teacher? Still, Edelgard wished his spellcasting would hasten and break the coffin’s seal. She had a growing chill of unease playing on her spine. It was the glare in Byleth’s eyes. Something didn’t seem right. 

“My teacher,” she whispered. 

Byleth didn’t look at her. 

“My teacher, we shouldn’t charge straight forward,” Edelgard said. “That knight, the one they call Death, his magic and his weapon are too great for us. We need to split up and go on either side of him, take the flanks. Elsewise, he may cripple our onslaught… or worse.” 

The Death Knight stood in the perfect position, as Edelgard ordered. Without enabling Byleth or the Black Eagles to make a run straight for Saint Seiros’s coffin, they had to take the more painstaking route around the middle, where soldiers of the Western Church waited. It felt like she was slowly fitting pieces of a puzzle together, soon to make an image of her own creation. 

Edelgard barely suppressed her elation when Byleth nodded. The professor agreed, “You’re right. We’ll go around.” She turned to the students. “Caspar, Lindhardt, Dorothea, Petra, you will come with me--” 

“Professor!” Edelgard interrupted. “Perhaps I can have Petra? You have no need for two sword-users on your team, and I’d like the chance to fight alongside her.” Byleth’s eyes flashed; Edelgard wondered if she was testing her teacher’s patience. Regardless, she continued, saying, “Allow Hubert to join you in her stead? He may be my vassal, but he does not always need to be by my side.” 

Hubert bowed, for once his smile was cordial. “I’d be honored to fight alongside you, Professor.” 

Byleth relented, “Very well. I trust you. You can take Petra, Ferdinand, Mercedes, and Bernadetta.”

“Thank you, my teacher.” 

“It gives me great joy to fight with you, Lady Edelgard!” Petra said as she joined her group.

The two parties split. Edelgard’s team readied their weapons, eyeing the Death Knight warily. Edelgard grabbed Hubert’s arm before he got the chance to leave. She whispered briskly into his ear, “Make sure she doesn’t get to Seiros’s tomb before the bones are taken.” 

“You have my word, Lady Edelgard.” Hubert joined Byleth, still smiling. 

Edelgard ran to the front of her party, assuming the lead. Axe in hand, she pointed at the mosaic at their feet. “These tiles are enchanted. Use them to your advantage!” 

From across the mausoleum, she heard Byleth’s battle had already begun. The clatter of swords and hisses of blasting magic echoed, causing the ancient marble pillars to tremble. From the cathedral, the organ music could still be heard and with it the sound of the singing choir. It sounded eerie to hear it within the dimly lit mausoleum. 

“So the bastard child soldiers of the Central Church have come to stop us?” hissed one of the knights lying in wait. His armor resembled that of the Central Church, bearing the Crest of Seiros on his chest plate, but his armor was colored dark gray instead of white. The color of the west. Lance in hand, he pointed at Edelgard. His helmet hid his face, but she knew it contorted with rage as he said, “It was your commander, the one they call the Ashen Demon, that defiled Lord Lonato’s honor and smashed his face to a pulp! For that, you will pay!” 

Edelgard knew Lord Lonato was favored by the Western Church. Anyone that stood against the Central Church and Lady Rhea was favored by them. It made them an easy, if not disposable, ally. “We owe you nothing! Lord Lonato was a traitor!” 

Enraged, the knight charged at her, and Edelgard stoodfast, waiting to meet him. “The rest of you, take the lead,” she ordered. “I can handle him.”

As the Black Eagles charged ahead, Edelgard met her axe with the knight’s stabbing lance. It lunged for her chest, but the head of her axe stopped it; as metal met metal, sparks flew. Edelgard gritted her teeth as the force of the impact sent her feet sliding backwards. She bent her knees and shoved him off. He hissed through his helm, quick to repeat his attack. Edelgard side-stepped. The air around her seemed to warp. At her feet, the tiles glowed, humming quietly. When the steel head speared for her bodice, it slowed, swallowed by the strange aura radiating from the mosaic. Edelgard smirked, dodging without much effort. Had she wanted the battle to end, she would have driven the axe into his chest plate then, but she wanted it to last. She would dance around his death and burn time like the candles burned their wicks, caring not for the mess the wax would make. 

“Damn you, wench!” The knight spat. 

His lance aimed for her shoulder, but she parried it with her axe, smiling. Their weapons trembled against one another. Then, a hiss and a gag. An arrow buried into the side of his neck, just below his helmet where the skin was exposed. Dark red blood burst from the impact, raining down on his gray armor as he coughed. Adrenaline fooled the knight into thinking his pain would cease once he ripped the arrow out of his neck, but that only sealed his fate. He groaned, gagging, as more blood squirted from his wound. His lance clattered to the ground first, followed by the clang of his body. His blood seeped into the melted candle wax, swirling red with white. 

“Bernadetta?” Edelgard was breathless. 

Bernadetta joined her, panting. “I saw you weren’t able to land a blow, so I tried to help!” 

Edelgard didn’t have the heart to be upset with her, so she smiled. “Your aim has improved. Thank you.” 

Bernadetta blushed pink. “Come on! Let’s join the others.” 

As they ran down the corridor, Edelgard felt the glare of the Death Knight on her. He had not moved since the battle commenced, obeying the orders she gave him before they met in the mausoleum. Even so, she knew his bloodlust could overtake him, so she brought Mercedes as a surprise. She knew it made him loathe her; she could feel his hatred radiating from his black armor, but it only fueled her will to continue.

Ferdinand shouted, impaling a mage on his lance. The mage wailed, her dark hair spilled from her fallen toque as blood dribbled from her lips. By his side, Mercedes conjured Nosferatu; the white magic spun with the enemy priest’s own white magic, creating an endless spools of silver to curl between them. The magic faded, however, when Petra came from behind to bury her rapier into his back. He gagged grabbing at the sword helplessly, only to cough and fall to his death when Petra pulled it back out of him. 

_ We’re too strong for them _ , Edelgard realized.  _ Where are the reinforcements? _

The mage conjuring before Seiros’s tomb mirrored her concern. “They’re gaining!” he snapped, voice muffled by his plague mask. “Death Knight, I order you to send these children to an early grave.”

The Death Knight cackled. “You’re lower than dirt. I don’t take orders from the likes of you.”

Edelgard, despite her misgivings, was relieved to hear the Death Knight refuse the mage. A fight with him was a guaranteed death sentence for the Black Eagles, maybe even for Byleth. Byleth… Edelgard saw her seamlessly cutting through the Western Church soldiers like a knife cutting through soft butter. Meanwhile, Hubert cast dark spells in secret to buff the magic of the ignorant mages warring against her, but even his assistance was not enough to stop her. 

From the steps, more soldiers ran to meet Edelgard and her battle party. They hollered, throwing themselves into the fray, slashing with swords and stabbing with lances. Petra met a swordsman eagerly; they danced with their blades, trading blow after blow, sending sparks flying. Their steel was turned orange by the fire light. Edelgard realized Petra’s training with Byleth was paying off; her movements honored Byleth’s, for they were as swift, smooth, and deadly as a viper’s fang. Though Petra made killing look graceful, while Byleth looked like a wrathful god. 

Ferdinand took a blast of Thunder head-on as he consumed himself with the battle he shared with another swordsman. He tumbled backwards, reeling, as sparks curled around his limbs, making him spasm and gag. The swordsman moved to stab his weapon through Ferdinand’s heart. Edelgard warred him off with her axe, sending his blade scraping the ground between Ferdinand’s legs. She took advantage of the soldier’s surprise, bringing her axe into his flank with force. He slashed at her when she pulled her axe free of his chain mail, cutting into her arm as she shielded her face. She hissed between her clenched teeth as blood dripped from her forearm. The swordsman lunged for her again, but she was ready, she retaliated with a blast of Fire. He groaned in agony as his face was cooked within the heated metal of his helm. 

“Edelgard, I could’ve handled that one myself!” Ferdinand protested, still sitting with his legs splayed. He twitched now and again as electricity played in his veins. “Your interference nearly rendered me a eunuch!” 

“Would you rather have lost your life or your manhood?” Edelgard snapped, offering him her hand. 

“When you put it that way, I suppose a thanks is in order.” Ferdinand admitted, but he did so grudgingly.

Around them, the battle raged on. Bernadetta shot arrows, one after the other, at the incoming soldiers while Petra picked them off with a lick of her sword. Mercedes stood by, healing when she could, and using Nosferatu when she couldn’t. Her lavender eyes found them, and she extended a hand. Physic’s white magic fluttered from her fingertips, swarming Ferdinand in a pale glow. The skin blackened by Thunder healed into pinkish blotches that no longer smelled of burnt flesh. 

Ferdinand sighed with relief. “Thank you!” 

“You’re making a habit of getting hurt,” she said worriedly. 

“Well, it  _ is _ a noble’s duty to be in the frontlines of danger.”

“Uh-huh…” Mercedes didn’t sound convinced. 

Edelgard and Ferdinand returned to battle together. They found the mage that struck him on the steps leading to Seiros’s tomb. Her hands summoned more electricity; her magic sparked to life in blue bolts, crackling as her hair stood on end. She laughed and sent the Thunder flying once more. Edelgard met it with Fire, causing a bellowing boom to sound as the two forces of magic went up in smoke. Soldiers and students alike started coughing as the smoke from the blast lingered.

“I can’t see!” Bernadetta shouted. 

Edelgard peered through the smoke, catching a glimpse of Byleth’s party already marching up the stairs.  _ No. _ With purpose, she pushed through the black haze, numb to the feeling of it flooding her lungs. Her axe, glinting still even in the midst of the black cloud, swung and cracked against the mage’s skull. Her coughing gave her away. Edelgard knew precisely where she stood. She shoved the mage out of the way, leaving her split skull to stain the steps red. Byleth was too close. She needed to be stopped. 

With her Fire magic used up, she resorted to digging deeper. Within her chest, she felt flames stir. Her arms shook as she conjured within the cover of the smoke. She heard screams from the top of the stairs as Edelgard caused the tiles to split. Her teeth gnashed together as the pressure of the powerful magic hungrily sapped at her strength. It was a newer spell, unrefined, but she had no choice. A fissure cracked across the top of the stairs, from its cracks heat hissed. She could see the silhouettes of Black Eagles and Western Church soldiers yelling to get out of the way as Bolganone erupted, belching lava. It splashed onto the robes of a priest, Edelgard hoped it wasn’t Lindhardt. She squeezed her eyes shut as Bolganone sent more bursts of lava to melt the mosaic tiles and hiss across the mausoleum.  _ I’m sorry, this had to be done. I can’t lose.  _ One soldier got stuck in the mayhem, she watched as he melted like a candle into the fissure, wailing. 

By the time she finished her spell, the smoke she hid within began to clear. Edelgard quickly drew her axe back up as she ran up the remaining stairs to see the damage that had been done. She frowned, staring into the ring of fire that remained, seeing only the soldier’s melted corpse still steaming. She wasn’t sure if she was frightened or relieved to see that her black magic harmed none of the Black Eagles. 

“Stay back!” 

It was the mage that was beside Seiros’s tomb that shouted. His hands juggled a lightning ball as he prepared Boron between his palms. The attack was meant for Byleth; she was running up the steps with that same glint in her eyes she had when facing Lord Lonato. Edelgard’s blood ran cold.  _ No, no, no. _

The mage cackled, though there was fear in his voice. “You’re too late! The seal has broken. The bones are mine!” Thoron blasted down the steps, thundering for Byleth.

Byleth rolled, dodging the beam of electricity in time to be safe from the attack. She was on her feet again in a heartbeat, running for the mage with her sword drawn. The mage flinched, turning his back on Byleth as he hurried to retrieve the bones. 

“A sword?” He held up an odd weapon. The material was not steel, but a muted ivory. The blade itself was damaged, scored with cracks and cuts. One end was serrated strangely. At its pommel, a piece appeared to be missing. 

Edelgard narrowed her eyes. “It can’t be…” 

Clumsily, the mage swung at Byleth with the mysterious sword. A fatal mistake. She disarmed him with a single blow, sending the blade flying right into her hand. As soon as the sword found her, it radiated an eerie red aura, reacting to her touch. There was no mistaking it. Byleth held the Sword of the Creator in her hand. Edelgard’s heart pounded as Byleth evaluated the sword in her hand; her expression was unimpressed, but her eyes glowed with curiosity.

Footsteps came marching from the entrance. Edelgard turned to see Sir Catherine leading a charge of knights. However, she stopped, eyes wide when she saw the blade in Byleth’s possession. Was it fear on her face, or awe? Edelgard read Sir Catherine’s lips as she gazed at Byleth, “She’s Awakened… The Crest of Flames!” 

The mage sent Thoron booming toward Byleth once more, but the electric beam was split into useless sparks as her new weapon cut through it. The red glow grew redder as she slashed again, cutting through his meager ball of Fire. Her eyes bore into the mage’s, cold and unfeeling. The mage turned to run, but Byleth never gave him the opportunity. With a sickening rattle, like a rattlesnake’s tail, the sword extended, burning bright as it lashed across the mage’s back. The impact cut him in two, cauterizing each end of his severed body instantaneously. He was dead before his split body hit the ground. 

Hollow cackling sounded, mocking Edelgard. “We lost! We lost!” It came from the Death Knight. He remained in place, even as Sir Catherine gained on him. He just kept laughing. “We lost! We lost!” 

Byleth turned on him next, just as Sir Catherine closed in from the other side. The Sword of the Creator extended once more unleashing in a glowing red whip that looked like a solar flare. Sir Catherine sent a bolt of red lightning towards the Death Knight. All he did was laugh. 

“How interesting…” The Death Knight purred. Before the blows from Byleth and Sir Catherine could meet him, he vanished in a flash of green, cackling once more. 

As the arcane magic of Thunderbrand and the Sword of the Creator met, they burst together in a hiss of white light, followed by a rippling whirlwind. The wind blew out every last candle in the mausoleum, sending them all into darkness. The cackle of the Death Knight still echoed in the pitch black.

Edelgard felt herself drop to her knees.  _ I failed. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lack of gargoyles in-game at Garreg Mach monastery is a crime. 
> 
> Honestly, this chapter was kind of painful to write! Mostly because there wasn't a point in time where some romance between El and Byleth would be appropriate... Oh well! Guess that means it'll come in the next chapters. ;)


	13. Euthyphro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles are rewarded for their valiance in the Holy Mausoleum.

The sun made certain the last days of the Blue Sea Moon would be the hottest. It burned white hot in the cloudless blue sky. Its unforgiving shine chased all shadows from existence. Without shade to shelter in, the cats that prowled Garreg Mach took to the windowsills, pressing up against the cool glass to sleep the heat of day away. Edelgard wished she could join them. Her entire body ached, though two days had passed since her fight in the Holy Mausoleum. It made it difficult to walk, to think, to do much of anything she needed to do in order to keep her plans in motion. 

Perhaps it was the stress of failing that tortured her body so? 

Failure, it burrowed into her brain, poisoning her with thoughts of self-loathing, wounding her. She still felt the pain of seeing Byleth with the Sword of the Creator, how it broke her heart and shattered her hope all in one night. Edelgard was left with no Relic, no victory, no idea what to do next. Yes, no idea what to do at all. That was the scariest part. When Edelgard failed to take the next step,  _ they _ took it for her, and more often than not, their ideas were too wicked to stomach. She needed to come up with something, and quick, before it was too late.

Around her, Garreg Mach monastery resumed the days as normal. Priests with long push-brooms still swept the stone walkways, letting the abandoned eggshells from the Rite of Rebirth spill into the grass. Thousands of broken, pale blue pieces littered Garreg Mach, looking like snow that refused to melt beneath the glowing sun. Students hurried into the halls and classrooms, eager to get out of the heat, but Edelgard would not be joining them. Her duty was to meet in the Audience Chamber; the very thought caused her intestines to knot inside her. To any other student, it would be a proud and exciting occasion. After all, it wasn’t everyday an entire class received honors for their mission efforts. 

The invitation to the Audience Chamber came tied neatly on an owl that hooted at her window until she was forced to open it. It read in ornate script: 

_ To the esteemed student of the House of the Black Eagle, you are henceforth invited to an audience with Archbishop Rhea on the Ninth Hour of the Thirtieth Day of the Blue Sea Moon whence you will receive commendation for your glorious efforts in the name of the Church of Seiros. At your door, you shall find a package containing the appropriate uniform for the ceremony. Once you don the uniform, you will be frocked to your new battle class. _

_ On behalf of the Church of Serios, congratulations on a job well done. _

The irony of it all was so cruel. Not only did Edelgard fail, but she would be rewarded for it. She could almost laugh. 

“My Lady.” A knight, once leaning on her lance in a sliver of shade, popped upright and bowed as Edelgard passed by. 

Edelgard inclined her head in greeting. Around her, she noticed students stopping to stare, only to shy away when they met her eyes, and knights suddenly springing into diligence. She knew why. The uniform provided to her was for the Lord battle class, an exclusive right reserved only for the heirs of the political elite. It was a glorious garb, meant to attract attention and command authority. A pelice steeped in scarlet came down mid-thigh, where it met black stockings. From her knees, leg armor gilded in gold hugged down to her feet, and it shone white in the bright sunlight. The gold plating also protected her chest and shoulders in the form of half-plate armor. A red cape billowed behind her, fringed with gold that shimmered like the white in her hair, catching the eye of every bystander she crossed. The entire outfit was a dreadfully hot contraption, but Edelgard kept her head held high even as she felt sweat trickle down her back. 

Mercy came in the cool of the Reception Hall. She stole a breath to still her soul as everyone turned to look at her. They gawked and whispered. Some dared to linger their gaze on her legs for too long, as if they’d never seen a woman in a thigh-length dress before. It was not long before they hid their eyes again. No one could look at her for long. She marched down the aisle, frowning, quickly finding the stairs. Her frown deepened with every step as she neared the Audience Chamber. It would be a short ceremony, it had to be. Edelgard would go mad if she had to stay for long. 

She heard voices down the hall, and she recognized them instantly. Seteth and Lady Rhea. Edelgard’s heart jumped into a sprint as she neared. The iridescent glow of sunlight through stained glass trickled out from the Audience Chamber, and with it the words of Lady Rhea. 

“You bring shame to all that is holy, and for that I cannot forgive you.”

Edelgard slipped past the door, hiding behind one the broad marble pillars that lined the aisle, listening and watching. Five men of the Western Church stood before Lady Rhea, each looking more pale than the last as they waited to receive judgment. They were survivors from the raid in the mausoleum.

Lady Rhea glared at them like a mother scolding her child, not an archbishop weighing their lives in her hands. “For your blasphemy, you must pay the ultimate price.” 

“How could you?! We are members of the Church, you cannot execute holy men.” One of the priests spoke up, but Edelgard was not sure which one; they all had their backs turned to her.

Seteth intervened. “You lost your right to call yourself holy the moment you chose to defile Saint Serios’s tomb! To disgrace such a sacred temple... it’s utterly evil.” At least Seteth’s expression made sense; he wore the fury of a man ready to start a war. “Do you have any explanation for what you’ve done? First, you rally behind Lord Lonato and his heretical rebellion. Then, you raid the Holy Mausoleum on one of the most sacred days of the year.”

“If you burn anyone that disagrees with you, eventually you will have to burn the entire continent,” said one of the priests. “The Central Church has grown too powerful. It is up to us to give some of that power back to the Goddess Sothis. We must let Her be the final judge.”

Edelgard smiled. It was the generic answer she hoped they would give. The men they enlisted from the Western Church were left in the dark just enough to navigate without being able to escape. They never knew the true intentions behind the plot. And yet, she couldn’t pity them. Men that were willing to die for a cause they believed in deserved more than pity. As she watched their fates unfold, she revered them; they may have failed her, but it was her failure too. She would remember their sacrifice.

“So you decide to deface Her saint’s tomb, thinking that would send a message?” Seteth scoffed.

“Regardless of your wishes, judgment has been passed. The laws and principles of the Church were written in the name of Sothis. Violating them is unforgivable.” Lady Rhea spoke solemnly, though her eyes flickered with rage. “The punishment irrevocably is death. The Church commands this because it is right.”

_ More like it is right because the Church commands it. _ Edelgard frowned.

One of the men crumbled at her feet. Tears dripped onto the ornate mosaic tiles of the floor as he sobbed. “Please, Archbishop. Forgive me!” 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen… we’ve been deceived!” Another protested, voice thick with sadness. 

He was right. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Had the mission been successful, Death would have been their savior, not their demise. The Death Knight was supposed to teleport with the survivors, bones in-hand, and report to Edelgard the next day. She was to meet them as the Flame Emperor. But the mission failed as soon as Byleth got her hands on the sword. There would be no salvation. There would be no weapon. The Flame Emperor was emperor of none without a Relic. Edelgard felt like a pit had opened in her stomach.

All the men dropped to their knees as the weight of their imminent death came crashing down. Tears and pleas filled the air, tainting it. They pulled and kissed on the white satin that pooled at Lady Rhea’s feet. Bile rose from the back of her throat. If the day ever came that Edelgard faced death, she would not cry, she would not beg, she would accept her fate and her failure, no matter how bitter it would taste going down. She would even accept, no, welcome her death. She could not bear to live in the world as it was, not when she knew what it could be. 

“Guards!” Seteth called out. “Take these forsaken men to the dungeons. Tomorrow, they shall face the gallows!” 

“May the Goddess have mercy on your souls,” Lady Rhea murmured as her knights carried the wailing men away. Lady Rhea watched them go. Her face was no longer sullen, but vengeful. “It appears an inquisition may be in order. The Western Church has grown too bold.”

“I agree,” Seteth said. “I fear an outside entity must be kindling their boldness.”

“We will put these fires out as we always have, Seteth. After this honor ceremony, meet me in my chamber. We need to plan our response to this treason. No doubt there are more in the Western Church that pine for our downfall.” Lady Rhea was undeterred, even as the screams of the men that shared her faith echoed from down the hall. 

Edelgard felt her blood turn to ice in her veins as she froze. She needed to tie up any loose ends before Lady Rhea sent the knights to lead an inquisition. If there were any stragglers of the men she enlisted, they needed to be silenced. With urgency, she snuck out of the Audience Chamber. There was still time to meet with Hubert and voice her concerns before the ceremony. She had to tell him what was coming--

“Woah there!” 

Edelgard crashed into the man’s armor before she could realize he was there. Rubbing her head, she gazed up from the man’s milky white armor to see his face. “Sir Jeralt!” 

“I thought they told you kids no running in the hallways?” Sir Jeralt frowned, but his brown eyes were warm. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. 

When she first met him, he wore studded leather armor with a bearskin hide hanging off his shoulders. Now, he bore the ivory-colored armor of the Church with the Crest of Seiros on his chest plate. He still had the face of a rugged mercenary, that was one thing Lady Rhea couldn’t take from him. He had a prominent jawline and a permanent frown. Stubble remained on his chin in protest of being shaven. Wrinkles plagued his features after years of combat, but they framed his face in a way that only made him more handsome; even the scar across his cheek complimented his looks. Salted streaks betrayed his age in his otherwise sandy brown hair; she wondered if he tried to hide the white hair by maintaining a tight crew cut. 

“My apologies,” Edelgard dipped her head, scrambling to reclaim her usual graciousness. “I didn’t mean to bump into you.” 

“Aren’t you one of the brats my daughter teaches?” Sir Jeralt scratched the stubble on his chin. The strong set of his jaw and the wrinkle in his brow as he thought reminded Edelgard of Byleth. “Yeah, I remember you. Edel-something...” He nodded behind her. “You’re supposed to be getting an award today. You know the Audience Chamber is that way, right?”

Edelgard couldn’t help but smile. He addressed her the same way Byleth did. He wasn’t afraid to meet her gaze. “It’s Edelgard, Sir Jeralt.” There was no escaping now. She would have to tell Hubert about the inquisition later. “I, uhm, didn’t see anyone in the Audience Chamber, so I chose to wait outside.”

“The way you were running, I thought you’d seen a ghost or something.” Jeralt narrowed his eyes. The gruffness of his voice never failed. “And don’t call me ‘Sir.’”

“But you’re a knight now, as a student I must recognize that,” Edelgard insisted. The scent of tobacco and alcohol wafted off him, but he doused it with the mint leaves he chewed on. “Don’t you like the title?” 

“Do you give my daughter a hard time like this too?” He sounded amused, but the hard-set expression on his face never left him. Byleth got that from him too. Jeralt managed a chuckle as he shook his head. 

Edelgard blushed. “I don’t give her a harder time than anyone else.” Even as she said the words, they didn’t feel true. She wondered what Jeralt would think if he knew she tried to lie to, kiss, and kill Byleth within the few moons they knew each other. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Jeralt said. “She’s taken a liking to you brats.”

“She has?” Edelgard couldn’t imagine Byleth liking anything. 

“I know she can be difficult… that’s probably something she got from me… but she’s got a heart.” 

The way he defended her heart made Edelgard wonder if he knew she didn’t have one. 

Jeralt continued, “I’m pretty sure she’d die for you kids.” 

“Is that also something she got from you?” Edelgard smiled. 

Jeralt laughed. “I can’t take all the credit. I think that’s something she got from her mother too, not just me.” His eyes turned sad, but he kept a smile. “Edelgard, you said?” 

She nodded. “That’s right.”

“She talks about you the most.” Jeralt scratched his chin again, thoughtful. “And Byleth usually doesn’t talk to me about anything.”

Edelgard felt butterflies flutter to life in her stomach at the thought. It was unfair how happy that made her feel. She wanted to ask what Byleth said, but more knights were coming. 

“Jeralt!” Sir Alois’s voice echoed from down the hall. “What gives? You were supposed to meet up with us for breakfast!” Behind him, Sir Catherine and Sir Shamir talked amongst themselves. Sir Gilbert walked in silence.

Jeralt snorted, turning to face him. “I decided a smoke would taste better than a meal with the likes of you. It was more peaceful, that’s for sure.” 

Sir Alois puffed up like a blowfish. “You could’ve at least told me… I let my gravy get cold waiting for you.” 

“Tomorrow, maybe,” Jeralt said with a pained expression. 

Sir Alois looked ready to retort, but as soon as he noticed Edelgard he deflated. “Oh, Lady Edelgard! Good morning to you.” He smiled pleasantly, bowing to her with an extended hand. “And might I offer a premature congratulations for the award you are about to receive?”

Edelgard put on her cordial smile meant for all courtly interactions and placed her hand in his. “I thank you, Sir Alois.”

He kissed her hand. Edelgard didn’t like the way his whiskers felt against her skin. Sir Alois stood upright once more, grabbing Jeralt by the shoulder and shaking him. “I hope this brute isn’t giving you a hard time?”

“Not at all. We were just talking.” Edelgard watched with amusement as Jeralt glared at Sir Alois. 

Sir Catherine, Sir Shamir, and Sir Gilbert had come to stand with them.

“Princess,” Sir Catherine greeted with a smile, bowing. 

Sir Shamir and Sir Gilbert bowed wordlessly.

“Good morning to you all,” Edelgard said. 

“Yes, good morning,” Sir Gilbert muttered. He did not seem keen on speaking. He bowed once more. “If you’ll excuse me, My Lady. I’ll be taking my leave to the Audience Chamber.”

“Of course, I’ll be joining you soon,” Edelgard said.

Quietly, Sir Gilbert left them, walking with his head held low and his hands locked behind him. He moved like a tired man that had seen one too many battles. The other knights watched him go, unbothered by his absence.

Being surrounded by the captains of the Knights of Seiros would usually leave Edelgard feeling uneasy, but Jeralt’s presence reassured her. Of all of them, Edelgard realized it was him she trusted the most. She wondered what he would do if Edelgard mentioned how Sir Catherine nearly buried a knife in the back of his daughter’s head.

The way Sir Catherine behaved, it was like that night never happened. “Jeralt, you must be proud. It was your daughter that led them to this victory, after all.”

“There’s never a moment I’m not proud of my daughter,” Jeralt said gratingly. “Besides, you and I both know this ceremony is a formality. Byleth was just doing her duty.” Edelgard had a feeling he was as suspicious of Catherine’s intentions as she was.

“And in doing so she Awakened her Crest... how incredible that was to see the Crest of Flames come to light.” Sir Catherine quirked a brow. “You had to have known she bore it?”

“Are you interviewing me for the Academy newspaper or something?” Jeralt asked dryly. “What does it matter where the damn Crest comes from?”

Sir Shamir stepped in. “Cat just gets overexcited is all. She hasn’t shut up about it since it happened.”

Sir Alois came in with an assist, “Yes, like a kid in a candy parlour!”

“More like a gnat in my ear,” Jeralt grumbled stormily. Edelgard stifled a giggle. 

“Will all of you be attending the ceremony?” Edelgard asked. She didn’t want the subject to linger on Byleth any more than it had to, especially not about her Crest of Flames. She felt a painful twinge in her chest.

“Tradition dictates that all captains must be present for honor ceremonies,” Sir Shamir said. She didn’t sound thrilled about it. 

“And what an honor it is!” Sir Alois said. “I’m expecting big things from you kids, big things indeed.” 

More footsteps echoed from the other side of the hall. Edelgard noticed the rest of the Black Eagles had come to join them. She smiled at the sight of them dressed in their new uniforms. Ferdinand donned a full suit of armor. Adrestian red colored the plates on his shoulders, forearms, and knees while the rest remained a steely gray. Beside him, Petra also wore armor, but only a half-plate that covered her chest and shoulders; additional plates protected her forearms. Beneath, she wore a pelice that came down to mid-thigh, met by brown leather riding boots. Dorothea wore a dark maroon floor-length cote with bell-sleeves with golden feathers embroidered on her neckline. Hubert wore a black overcoat draped over an equally black jerkin with golden buttons and black breeches. In the back of the group, Bernadetta wore a dark gray gambeson with black tights and tall gray boots; it was simple attire, but it flattered her well. In a robe of white, Lindhardt looked like a swan, gracefully walking beside Caspar. Then again, anyone would look graceful beside Caspar. He marched in a one-man parade down the hall with a toothy grin, wearing padded leather with a wolf fur trim at the shoulders.

Byleth wore her usual attire, but Edelgard found herself staring at her the most. She watched the subtle glow in her blue eyes as the students around her smiled and talked excitedly.  _ Taken a liking to us… _ Edelgard wondered if what Jeralt said was true. Byleth did seem to change slightly over the moons, but Edelgard couldn’t explain how. She continued to speak in monotone, her expression was always cold, but her eyes… they seemed lighter somehow. Edelgard found herself smiling, but it faded as soon as she remembered her failure. Her failure was caused by Byleth. 

“Right on time!” Sir Alois greeted them as they arrived.

“Wo-woah!” Caspar ignored Sir Alois, running straight to Sir Catherine. “You’re going to watch us receive our honors?”

Sir Catherine smiled. “Of course. We’ve fought together, after all. It’s only right for me to be here for your big day.”

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Sir Shamir pointed out flatly. 

Caspar didn’t seem to care. “Awesome! This is going to be the best day ever. _ The _ Thunder Catherine gets to see me get an award!” 

“I’m just glad I don’t have to be in class,” Lindhardt said, yawning. 

“Wasn’t there another student in the holy mausoleum with you all?” Sir Catherine asked. 

“Her name’s Mercedes, and she chose to earn her award in the presence of the Blue Lions instead of joining us,” Byleth explained. 

Mercedes helped in the Holy Mausoleum in more ways than one, but even that was not enough to seal victory. Edelgard made a note to convince Byleth to enlist her services again. Someone like Mercedes was invaluable to her as long as the Death Knight fought on her side. Still, she felt a twinge of guilt for using her.

Dorothea gushed, running to Edelgard and hugging her. “Oh my goodness, Edie! You look so beautiful.”

Blushing, Edelgard said, “You look beautiful too, Dorothea.”

“I can’t wait. This is a first for me. I’ve only ever been recognized for my singing… so I never thought I could be good at anything else.” Dorothea squeezed her tight before she let go. She waved her hands at her eyes. “I’m getting emotional just thinking about it.”

“You’ve earned it, Dorothea,” Edelgard said, smiling. “You fight just as hard as the rest of us.”

“Edie, I could just eat you up sometimes.” Dorothea sighed. As Petra and the other students walked by with the knights, she hurriedly joined them. “Come on! It’s time.”

When she left, Byleth was still standing there, staring at her strangely. It was one of those gazes that seemed like she was staring through her, right to her heart. Edelgard’s chest tightened. They had not spoken since the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth, Edelgard made sure of that. She wondered if Byleth realized she was avoiding her. 

“Is there something on my face?” Edelgard asked, trying to sound annoyed but not having the nerve. Byleth made her too weak. 

“You really do look beautiful,” she said softly. When Byleth said it, it made Edelgard’s heart sing. She felt her pulse quicken as Byleth closed the distance between them. “You have every right to be recognized as a Lord on the battlefield. You lead the other students well.”

“Thank you,” Edelgard murmured, not meeting her eyes. 

Byleth gently picked up her chin with her cool fingers, forcing their eyes to meet. “Is something wrong?”

Edelgard pushed her hand away. “It’s nothing.” 

In silence, they walked together into the Audience Chamber. It was so quiet, their footsteps echoed. Standing in a row with their backs to her, the Black Eagles faced the dark wood throne Lady Rhea stood before. Edelgard shivered. Only an hour prior, Lady Rhea sentenced the men that stood in that same spot to death. In front of Lady Rhea stood the captains of the Knights of Seiros. To her left was Sir Alois, Sir Jeralt, and Sir Gilbert. On her right was Sir Shamir and Sir Catherine. Edelgard regarded them with a solemn visage. Seeing them stand together so formally, wearing their white armor and the Church’s sigil, Edelgard anticipated the day it would come to battle between them. They all fought in Lady Rhea’s name and would die for her; they had no choice. Now that it was known that Byleth could wield a Heroes’ Relic like Sir Catherine, Edelgard wondered if she would join them too and don the white armor. The idea made her heart shrivel.

She stood beside Hubert, starting the row. Byleth joined Seteth on the side, standing between the two marble pillars with an unreadable expression. Once everyone was in their places, the cathedral bells chimed the ninth hour. 

Lady Rhea began, “Two days ago, the House of the Black Eagle fought bravely to defend the Holy Mausoleum from dissenters. It was because of your valor an ancient relic was not lost to the hands of evil and the believers of the Church remained safe. For that, I am eternally grateful.”

Chewing on Lady Rhea’s words was tougher than chewing on the head of a spiked mace. Edelgard instead focused on the colors of the stained glass window, imagining a warm breeze on her face and the sound of birdsong. 

“As commendation for your efforts, I wrote a letter to the Board of Weapons Mastery, asking for you all to receive an honorary promotion to the intermediate classes recommended to me by your esteemed Professor. Seteth,” Lady Rhea gazed at him as she said, “please step forth and present these students with their awards.” 

In his hands, Seteth held several certificates embellished on the gold faces of stained wood plaques. He stood before Edelgard first. His face still retained the ghost of his rage from earlier. She knew his mind was not on the ceremony, but on the impending inquisition.

Lady Rhea continued, “To Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire, I award you the official class title of Lord as thanks for your service to the Church of Seiros and your unwavering devotion to your rank as House Leader. May you continue to use your strength and knowledge for the greater good.”

Seteth handed Edelgard the certificate, which she took with a bow. She gazed at the shiny surface of the plaque, seeing her name written beneath the title: Lord. Upon receiving her certificate, the knights raised their fists and shouted, “Hoorah!” 

“To Hubert von Vestra, I award you the official class title of Mage as thanks for your service to the Church of Seiros,” Lady Rhea proceeded with the ceremony. “May you continue to devote yourself and your guile to a noble cause.”

“Hoorah!” 

Down the row Lady Rhea went. Dorothea earned the title Mage as well, while Petra and Bernadetta were dubbed Pegasus Knight and Archer respectively. Lindhardt earned his rank of Priest, and Caspar earned Brigand. Lastly, Ferdinand was awarded the rank of Cavalier. By the end of it, Edelgard’s head was spinning. It seemed like the ceremony would never end. 

“Before we conclude the honor ceremony, there is one more award I must bestow,” Lady Rhea said. Her eyes were on Byleth. There was a new light in her gaze that Edelgard didn’t like. Lady Rhea looked at Byleth like one would a priceless artifact, like something to behold, not someone to acknowledge. “My dear Professor, please come front and center.”

Byleth seemed to hesitate before she obeyed. She stood before Lady Rhea, standing in front of her students so that her back faced them. Edelgard wished she could see her expression. Instead, she settled for watching her father. Jeralt’s jaw was locked so tight, Edelgard thought his teeth would shatter. It made no sense to her, seeing him that way. Was he not happy about what was to come? To her surprise, Seteth mirrored his expression. He stood beside the archbishop, frowning deeply. In his hands, wrapped in a dark purple cloth, was a large, oblong object. Edelgard felt a cold sweat gather on her brow.

“Since you’ve arrived at Garreg Mach and accepted your position as professor for my Officers Academy, you’ve endowed these students with incredible skill and tact. However, you’ve not only shown greatness as a professor, but also as an ambassador of the Church of Seiros. Not once have you failed to uphold our values and succeed in our name.” Edelgard felt anxiety riddle her bones as Lady Rhea and Seteth stepped down from the stairs that led to her throne to stand before Byleth. “It is because of your ceaseless devotion to our Academy and the Church itself that I am returning to you what you kept safe for me in the Holy Mausoleum.”

Seteth pulled back the cloth, unveiling the Sword of the Creator. He extended the sword to Byleth. 

“Byleth Eisner, in the name of the Church of Seiros, I present to you the Sword of the Creator,” Lady Rhea said. 

Gasps filled the room. Sir Catherine started coughing loudly as if she forgot how to swallow. Sir Alois’s jaw came loose like a nutcracker. Jeralt shut his eyes and bowed his head. Sir Shamir and Sir Gilbert remained unaffected. The rest of the students either wore expressions of awe, shock, or a mixture of both. The vein snaking across Hubert’s temple looked ready to burst from his skin. 

“May you wield this sword in the name of all that is holy and just. May you defend the innocent and vanquish evil. May you continue to serve the Church and the Academy with valor, as you’ve done thus far, and continue to do so until fate says otherwise.” Lady Rhea smiled as Byleth took the sword. 

To Edelgard’s horror, Byleth kneeled and murmured, “I shall.” 


	14. Who Do You Fight For?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard and Byleth go to the Battalion Guild together to find a group of mercenaries suitable for her. While Edelgard tries to figure out which battalion should fight for her, she also tries to figure out who it is Byleth fights for.

“We have no other options.” 

Hubert’s words came harsh and heavy as Edelgard traced her fingertip around the lip of her teacup. The honey gold contents still warmed her hand, though the rest of her body felt cold. He was right. There was nothing they could do.

“With the Death Knight leased to our… counterpart… we have no one else to call upon. No one else you would  _ want _ to call upon, anyway,” Hubert continued. He glared at his cup. The contents were as dark and greasy as his hair. It was supposed to be coffee, but it looked more like sodden grinds sweltering in his glass. 

“Then we have no choice,” Edelgard resigned. “We must let the inquisition of the Western Church go on without interfering. We should hope that if any of those men survive, they do not know enough to squeal.”

“If I could, My Lady, I would find those surviving swine of the Western Church myself.” 

Edelgard knew it was true. Hubert would hunt down anyone if she gave the word. He was dogged in that way. She watched him from across the table, frowning. He would do anything for her without question. The thought failed to comfort her, though. If anything, it made her feel colder than she already was. He looked like he was in pain as he glared into the contents of his cup. 

“I had no other choice but to send the Death Knight away,” Edelgard said softly. She took a sip of her tea. It was a bergamot blend, rich and smooth like expensive silk, but even it was not enough to solace her frayed nerves as it went down. “After our failure in the mausoleum, I had to appease them somehow.”

Hubert sipped at his coffee. “And what of the Sword of the Creator? And our professor’s Awakened Crest?” 

“She must be allowed to keep the sword for now, and they’ve agreed,” Edelgard said. Her voice was thick. She took another sip of her tea, but it failed to soothe her voice. “The Crest Stone was missing from the pommel… there’s a chance we may find it elsewhere. Perhaps that is what we need?” She stirred the contents of her tea, watching the fragment of black leaves twirl at the bottom. The Crest of Flames. The Sword of the Creator. Byleth had all the necessary pieces to become more than a threat. She could be her downfall. And yet, she could not call for her death. 

“And what would we do with it if we found it?” Hubert asked, glaring. “It is useless without the Relic. Unless you intend to take the Relic from the Professor?”

Edelgard knew that would be impossible. Taking the Sword of the Creator from Byleth would end in death, either hers or her own. She was not willing to see either end. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to find another way, another answer, but she came up with nothing. Cold, dead nothing. 

“It pains me to see you this way, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert murmured. He watched her from the brim of his coffee, hiding his sullen frown. 

Edelgard smiled joylessly. “Then look the other way.” 

He shared her joyless smile. “You know I can’t do that.”

While they conspired in plain sight, the marketplace around them teemed with life. To the average bystander, Edelgard and Hubert were just two students sharing their morning beverages. No one could ever imagine them to be plotting the downfall of the very church they sheltered in. The best hiding place was often the most obvious one.

Merchants announced their spoils to the patrons that gathered. “Silks, silks! Silks from the Far East!” said one. Another man proudly declared, “The finest tomatoes you’ll ever find, right here! Red as rubies!” Dawn only just broke, and the air buzzed with life. The cusp of the Verdant Rain Moon ushered in an influx of merchants from across the continent; from the far east where the mountaintops never lost their snow, to the western end of the continent where the land met the sea, they traveled to Garreg Mach in a hurry to export their final stocks before the colder moons set in. The ceaseless sunlight of the Blue Sea Moon warmed their sails, and they enjoyed fair seas on their voyage. By the time they set foot on the steps of the famed monastery, the new moon arrived, the last moon of summer. This was their only chance to enter the portcullis and conduct business alongside the typical monastery vendors. Every merchant bore a fever that could only be cured if they sold every last item. Their cries grew more fervent. “Fresh fish from the far seas! Bottles of salt from the deep blue!” Another shouted over him. “Exotic olives, mallows, and endives! Get ‘em here before they’re gone!” There was no end.

“Do you know what they intend to do with the Death Knight?” Hubert asked. 

“They’ve not assigned him to anything yet.” That was what troubled Edelgard the most. Not knowing where her knight would be sent was more than enough to push her to the edge. It would only take the whisper of a breeze to send her over. “And I have no backup plan,” she admitted. “I ran out of time.”

Hubert took a long draw of his inky black beverage. “So, they will likely use him as they please?”

“Unfortunately.” When Edelgard had no direction, they took the wheel for her. When that happened, she was usually driven down a darker path. She hissed, “I just needed more time, damn them.”

“Time is in short supply these days.” Hubert set his coffee down. The cup was half empty. He pinched his chin as his face wrinkled with thought. “But if we are to continue to work together with them, we must keep their needs met.”

“If this were possible without them, I’d make it my sworn duty to see their needs were never met again.” The grate in her voice was dangerous. Her teacup trembled beneath her glare. 

Time mocked them in the toll of the bells. The seventh hour arrived. On the horizon, black clouds amassed in an impending tempest. The first days of the Verdant Rain Moon brought with it the promise of rain. The clouds smothered the rising sun, forcing its rosy rays to bleed out against the sky. The warm breeze that rolled in from the foothills smelled of rain and fresh flowers. Humidity gathered in the air, sticking to Edelgard’s troubled face. 

“I need to go,” she told him.

Hubert stood as she did, bowing to her. “Of course, My Lady. You’re meeting with the Professor, is that right?” 

Edelgard set three copperpieces down on the table to pay for their drinks and seats. “Yes, she’s supposed to be taking me to the Battalion Guild today.”

“That’s right, you’re recognized as a Lord on the battlefield now. You’ll need a battalion at your command if you’re going to be up to snuff.” Hubert smiled, but there was no warmth. “I hope you find what you are looking for.” 

She remembered their past quarrel and felt a twinge of regret. He only ever wanted to keep her safe. Had she listened to him, Byleth probably would not possess the Sword of the Creator. Then again, Byleth probably wouldn’t be alive to possess anything at all. Edelgard felt like she was being torn in two. “Thank you, Hubert.” 

As if sensing her internal struggle, he took her hand and kissed it softly. “I’ll be taking my leave, Your Highness.” 

Quiet as a shadow, he left the marketplace. Edelgard watched him go, holding herself with crossed arms. Not even the swelling humidity was enough to chase the coldness she felt away. She shivered. Days like this usually ended with nights that were far worse. She felt intrusive thoughts knocking at her door, waiting to be let in with red eyes and sadistic smiles. They would keep knocking until she slept and had no choice but to let them enter. The thoughts would march in, bringing along a grotesquerie of chains and knives and rats. She had not eaten breakfast, but she felt something crawling up the back of her throat, ready to leap out. 

In an effort to distract herself, she left the marketplace, climbing up the steps that led to the main gate of the monastery. The gatekeeper stood at attention; his half helm hid his eyes in a shadow, but his serious frown begot a man of duty. When he saw her, he bowed, and the frown turned into a smile. “Greetings, My Lady!” 

Edelgard still wore her Lord uniform. She was not allowed to return to her usual attire once she achieved this rank; it felt more like a punishment than a privilege. She was forced to practice her courtesies. “Sir,” she greeted the knight. “I trust you are keeping out the rabble?” 

The gatekeeper looked like he wanted to laugh, but he maintained his dutiful air. “Yes, My Lady! As long as I am on watch, no harm will come to thee.” His smile faded, slowly, and he turned melancholy. “Yet… I somehow missed those grave robbers on the Rite of Rebirth.”

He was young, she realized. Maybe only a few years her senior, yet he was charged with the monastery gates. “The blame is not yours alone to bear. There were so many people coming through the gates that night, you can’t have known. This watch is a monumental duty on a regular day, on a holiday, even more so.” Her condolences felt contrived, but they seemed to brighten his mood anyway. 

A blush colored his cheeks. “You flatter me, My Lady.” He peeked at her from under his helmet. When he saw her face his blush seemed to darken and he hid back under his helmet like a turtle retreating to his shell. “My Lady, if I may, have you ever made a decision you’ve come to regret?” He seemed to think twice about what he said and fumbled. “My apologies, you need not answer that, My Lady. That was too bold.” 

Edelgard watched his blunder with a fond smile. “Worry not. I take no offense.” She gazed back down at the marketplace from the top of the stairs, mulling over the question. “I do have regrets. I chose to trust people that were supposed to protect me, but they did the opposite.”

“Sometimes, I want to go back in time and reverse it,” the gatekeeper muttered. Edelgard could tell her answer made him uncomfortable. Invasive questions bore invasive answers. “But then… if I did so, I would probably not be where I am today. And I like where I’m at.” 

Edelgard could not share his complacency. She was far from where she wanted to be. Although, he was right about one thing. Had she not endured the torment and deceit of her past, she would probably not have the ambitions she harbored today. “This post becomes you,” she told him. “Thank you for your time and conversation.”

“If… If you ever need company, My Lady, you know where to find me.” He sounded a little too hopeful. It made Edelgard smile. 

“Good day to you.” Her farewell was fond. 

Edelgard noticed Byleth was approaching from the Dining Hall around the corner. By her side was Mercedes. Edelgard felt a weird twinge in her chest when she saw them together. Mercedes’s hair looked more rose gold than strawberry blond in the sunlight, and it spun beautifully down her chest in a luscious ponytail. Her eyes, so soft and purple, gazed up at Byleth as she spoke. Edelgard couldn’t hear exactly what Mercedes was saying, but seeing her so close to the professor made her wonder. This was what she wanted, right? She needed Mercedes to join their House as long as the Death Knight served her, but… Her heart tightened when they finally came into earshot. 

“You’re even working on your off day?” Mercedes asked. “Surely you’ll wear yourself out, Professor.” 

“There’s something I need to do,” Byleth told her. 

“It’s okay to rely on others, you know. The Goddess won’t smite you for it.” It was unfair how gentle Mercedes sounded. “If there’s anything I can do to assist you, please, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“I am only taking Edelgard to the Battalion Guild today. It won’t take long.” 

Mercedes smiled. “You’re always going to such great lengths to make sure everyone is cared for. Even us in the House of the Blue Lion know that.” 

“Good morning,” Edelgard greeted them, forthright. She couldn’t stand Mercedes flattering Byleth anymore than she already had. Even if Mercedes was genial, Edelgard found herself fretting over an ulterior motive. Maybe it was the way Mercedes looked at Byleth that made her blood get hot? 

“Oh, good morning, Lady Edelgard!” Mercedes was still smiling. “Professor was just telling me you’d be going to the Battalion Guild today. Good luck! I hope you find mercenaries that are to your liking.” 

“Thank you, Mercedes.” It was hard to be jealous of someone that was so nice. 

“I’ll be joining you on your mission again this moon, so I hope to do well. I won’t have a battalion of my own or anything, but I’ve been practicing my craft! So I hope to be of use to you.” 

Edelgard strained a smile. This was what she wanted, so why did she feel her skin turning green with envy? “Your white magic is incredible, Mercedes. We are always happy to have you.” 

“You’re too kind, Lady Edelgard.” She gazed up at Byleth. “I should be going. Annette and I are going to bake some sweets today… Well, Annette will be doing the baking, I’ll just help clean the mess.” She giggled. It was as sweet as the peal of a bell. “I’m sure there’ll be extras, if you’d like to try, Professor?” 

“Sure,” Byleth said. 

Though Byleth’s eyes held a glare, Mercedes never faltered beneath them. “We can have some with our tea this afternoon!” She paused, as if remembering Edelgard was there, and turned her saccharine smile on her. “I’ll be sure to make extras for you too, Lady Edelgard.” 

“I appreciate the thought,” Edelgard said. Her heart sank. So they were having tea together too? The insane desire to suddenly occupy Byleth’s time for the rest of the day took hold, but she shoved the feeling off. It was easier to stow away her feelings for Byleth when she stared at the Relic on her waist.  _ That could be slashing at your neck one day, _ she told herself. 

“Have a good day, Lady Edelgard! I’ll see you later, Professor!” Mercedes whisked off back towards the Dining Hall. 

When she left, Byleth stood beside Edelgard. For once, her eyes were not staring through her. Instead, she watched the marketplace below, where the shoppers crowded around the stalls like ants around a sugar cube. “Are you ready?” she asked. 

“Of course,” Edelgard said. The edge in her voice was as sharp as her dagger. 

They walked down the stairs in silence side-by-side, but Edelgard never felt further from her. It was the Relic between them that caused the rift. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs and stood in the marketplace, the rift had frozen over, becoming a canyon of ice. If Edelgard’s shoulder got any colder, it would be frostbitten. Byleth, however, seemed immune to the chilling silence between them. She watched the passersby with a guarded expression. It seemed the rift was not just between them. Byleth surrounded herself with a cavernous moat, and around that moat were massive stone walls, daring anyone to try and penetrate the impenetrable. 

Byleth led her to a modest building with whitewashed walls framed by wooden beams. The roof was shingled with red and brown, and on it a pair of cats rested with their tails drooping over the side. Edelgard watched the sleeping cats, wishing she could be as idle. She couldn’t even settle down for some tea without having something or someone fighting for her attention. As the door to the guild opened, Edelgard’s thoughts of idleness melted away. 

An aisle flanked by booths greeted her. Behind each wooden booth, banners hung from dual posts, bearing the logo of each battalion for hire. Most of the booths were empty, but those that were occupied had the most peculiar characters hosting them. Edelgard had never seen anyone like them. They bore no House sigil nor the colors of any kingdom. 

The first occupied stand they came upon was the most extravagant. Emerald green banners stood up in the back, embroidered in the middle was a silver serpent eating its tail; it coiled around a golden coin. Before the banners stood a handsome woman with dark brown skin, her eyes were as gold as the coin enveloped by the serpent, and her hair fell to the small of her back in black braids clasped together by golden beads. Beside her, a man stood as big as an ox with a black beard so thick it hid his neck. His eyes were such a dark shade of amber they almost looked red. The black hair on his head was tied up in a bun clasped together by the self-devouring silver serpent. He was as handsome as the woman, even with his nose slightly offset from the rest of his face, as if it had been broken and healed crooked. They both wore black leather jerkins clasped together with golden buttons over white tunics. On their chests, the emblem on their banners was embroidered. Black leather belts with golden buckles sat at their waists and the scabbards holding their swords were encrusted with emeralds. 

“Ah, My Lady!” the man greeted Edelgard as she stopped by their booth. “Welcome.”

“We are the Soldiers of Fortune,” the woman said. Her debonair smile put Sir Catherine’s to shame. “My name is Savara. I am the leader of the faction employed by Garreg Mach.” She gestured to the man beside her. “This is Mathos, my Second.” 

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Edelgard said cordially. 

Mathos bowed. “The pleasure is all ours.”

“We take pride in being the oldest and largest organization of mercenaries on the continent,” Savara continued, still smiling. “Our predecessors have fought in every great conflict since the birth of the Empire.” 

Edelgard knew of the Soldiers of Fortune. Anyone that did not know of them likely lived under a rock. They were highly regarded as skilled professionals that were as brave as any knight, but Edelgard knew an organization like that did not outlast its competition without getting their hands dirty. She also knew that the Soldiers of Fortune fought against the Empire just as often as they fought for the Empire. She couldn’t risk her secrets and weaknesses being sold to potential enemies. Especially when these mercenaries were employed by the Church. '

“We offer swordsman, cavalrymen, and archers,” Mathos said. “Each expert in their craft.” 

“We charge a little more than our competition, but that comes with a guarantee of victory in every battle we deploy in,” Savara added.

Edelgard remained gracious as she evaluated them. “Thank you, I will keep you in mind.” 

Mathos seemed a little offended to see Edelgard leaving so soon, but she had no patience to be solicited, not when she felt Byleth hovering wordlessly. The next booth bore white banners against a golden sun fringed with orange. Before them stood mages wearing mantles of white clasped around their necks by the sun emblem on their banner. The woman at the forefront wore a listless expression and had shadows in her eyes. 

“Greetings,” said the woman. Her red hair fell in tight curls that framed her sullen, heart-shaped face. Her brown eyes flashed as she spoke. “We are the Order of the Golden Dawn. You may call me Sprengel.” 

Edelgard felt uneasy as she stood before the magical mercenaries. The man standing beside Sprengel was tall and skinny, and his head remained bowed and hooded, hiding his face. He paid her no greeting. 

Sprengel gestured to her mute counterpart. “He is called Zelator. His specialty is black magic. Mine is white magic. Depending on what your needs are, we can provide battalions that specialize in either.” She spoke quickly, so quickly that Edelgard could barely retain the information.

“What was the name of your organization again?” Edelgard asked, eyes narrowed.

“The Order of the Golden Dawn,” Zelator rasped, still refusing to show his face. 

Edelgard had enough of the Order of the Golden Dawn. She gave them a nod and kept moving. Only one booth was left. She hoped they would be acceptable. If not, she would have to settle for the Soldiers of Fortune and pay her weight in gold and stolen secrets. To her surprise, their banners were a rosy pink, nestled in the center were two white doves pressed close, touching their heads and tails together. The joined birds resembled a heart shape. 

“Hello!” A husky man with a wiry red beard leaned over the booth to offer a meaty, freckled hand. “I’m Sava, but you can call me Redbeard.”

Edelgard extended her hand, expecting him to kiss it. Instead, he squeezed it and shook it heartily. “I’m Edelgard,” she greeted. 

Redbeard smiled. The parts of his face not covered by course red hair were splashed with ginger freckles. His bright blue eyes reminded Edelgard of a puppy. “I lead the Adorers!” he proclaimed. He shoved a thumb back at a man reclined in a chair, his golden brown face was shaded by a feathered purple hat he kept dipped over his head. Locks of black hair curled up from beneath the brim. “That one takin’ a snooze is Alexon. We used to call him Alexon Silvertongue, but then he lost it when he decided to wag it at some baron’s paramour.” 

Edelgard’s eyes widened. “He… got his tongue cut out?” 

“Aye.” Redbeard exhaled sadly, but he recovered with a smirk and leaned in conspiratorially, “So now we call him Alexon Notongue.” 

Edelgard stifled a giggle, trying to remain professional. This was her first time hiring mercenaries. She needed to do it right. When Byleth’s hand rested on her shoulder, she turned to face her. “Yes?” 

“Do you know which of them you want?” Byleth asked. 

“Which would you pick?” Edelgard asked, curious. 

“Jeralt’s mercenaries,” Byleth answered, unhelpful. 

“Well, obviously I can’t pick them if  _ you’re _ employing them,” Edelgard said, annoyed.

The twinkle in Byleth’s eye made Edelgard suspect she was being impish. It only made Edelgard more frustrated. “This decision must be your own,” Byleth said. “I’m only here because you cannot hire a battalion without a professor present.” 

Edelgard huffed and turned back to Redbeard. “The Adorers, you say?” 

“Aye. Named after our founder, The Adorer. She’s long gone though… died many’a years before your time, but our band has prevailed in her name!” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of her,” Edelgard admitted. 

“No, you wouldn’t. Beggin’ your pardon, lass, but you bluebloods weren’t fond o’ her. You’d never find her name mentioned in one o’ your fancy books. Their used to be songs for her, but once 'em operas started poppin’ up, the bards that knew her name were also lost to history” 

Edelgard ignored being called a blueblood as her curiosity took over. “Why’s that?” 

“Well, ‘cause she employed convicts. Thieves, mostly. She’d pay their bail or bust ‘em out of prison in order to give ‘em a second chance at life before they met the gallows.”

“And why would she do that?” 

“The Adorer believed a person was more than their past. So, she gave ‘em a new purpose in hopes of turnin’ ‘em ‘round for the better.” Redbeard smiled fondly. “My father and my father’s father had done the same in her name and kept this band going.”

“So you and Alexon are criminals?” Edelgard dared to ask. 

Redbeard’s belly shook with laughter. “No, we’re mercenaries!”

“I want you to fight for me,” Edelgard decided. She did not know why, but something inside her told her these men, no matter their past, were good. They did not have the extravagant attire and promises like the Soldiers of Fortune nor the shifty gaze or overwhelming aura of the Order of the Golden Dawn. She didn’t have to guess their intentions. 

“Really?” Redbeard smiled. He kicked at Alexon’s chair. “Oi! You hear that? She wants us to fight for her.” When Alexon didn’t budge, Redbeard shrugged and faced Edelgard once more. “We won’t be lettin’ ya down, lass.”

“Your price?” Edelgard asked. 

“We charge 42 goldpieces a moon,” Redbeard said. 

Edelgard considered this. “Perhaps we can half the price?” 

Beside her, she felt Byleth gaze down at her like she grew a second head. 

“Lass, are you poking fun at me?” Redbeard frowned, looking genuinely hurt. 

“In return for the halved pension, I will provide you armor and weapons from the Imperial Armory that will be refurbished and forged at my expense,” Edelgard promised. She didn’t need to see the Adorers’ weapons to know they were not up to par with her standards. And the more men wearing Adrestian colors, the better. “They will be delivered to your barracks post-haste.”

“You strike a hard bargain, lass.” Redbeard extended his hand again. This time, she shook it. “When do we deploy?” 

“The mission is at the end of this moon,” Byleth answered, speaking up at last. “There are a band of thieves wreaking havoc in the Kingdom. They’re led by a man named Miklan. We’ve been tasked to take him down and regain the Relic he stole.”

The freckles on Redbeard’s face paled. “Miklan?” 

“You know of him?” Byleth pressed. 

“Aye, unfortunately. He’s a hard man, a brutal man. We’ve tried to get him to abandon his thieving ways, but he’s not someone you can talk to. He only knows violence.” Redbeard recovered his smile. “Our first mission together may be a hard one, but we will help you prevail, lass.”

“I thank you.” Edelgard smiled. 

“Any paperwork regarding this transaction has to go through me,” Byleth told Redbeard, glaring. “It’s Academy policy.” Redbeard nodded, sliding a thick manila envelope across the booth. Byleth briskly stashed it in her overcoat, going quiet once more.

“So you’re still a student, eh?” Redbeard snickered. “You struck me as a commissioned officer, the way you handle business. Was your pa a knight?” 

There was no point in hiding it. “My father is Emperor Ionius, the Ninth of his Name, ruler of the Adrestian Empire. I’m his heir and daughter.” 

To her surprise, Redbeard did not drop into a bow or bend the knee, instead, he smiled his jovial smile and said, “Well, how about that! The Adorers are working for a princess… I wonder what our founder would think about that...”

Edelgard smiled with him. She found herself liking him more and more. “I’ll be visiting you again before the mission this moon. Until then, take care.” 

“You as well, lass.” 

As Edelgard and Byleth left, Savara called out to them. “Whenever you’re done playing teacher, there’s a spot for you with the Soldiers of Fortune, Ashen Demon!” 

Byleth glanced back, hesitating, and said, “Thank you, but I won’t be joining you.”

“What? You’re too good to be a mercenary now that you’ve got your fancy new toy?” Mathos taunted, nodding at the Relic on her hip.

Byleth didn’t acknowledge him as she shoved the door open. Edelgard thought it would break from the hinges with the amount of force she put behind it. 

The marketplace only got more crowded as the sun traveled across the sky. The sun was free from the storm clouds on the horizon now, and it shone its golden shine down onto the monastery, so every stone glowed. Edelgard stared into Byleth’s back as they squeezed through the crowd of people. The Soldiers of Fortune wanted her too. In the end, Edelgard could not imagine who Byleth would choose. 

Before they climbed the steps to the Main Gate, Edelgard asked her, “What  _ will  _ you do now that you have the Relic, Professor?”

Byleth stopped, staring up the steps. Edelgard wished she would face her. She wanted to see her eyes. “What I’ve been doing,” Byleth said flatly. “Teaching my students.” 

That answer wasn’t good enough. Edelgard frowned. The wall between them grew thicker as Byleth hid behind it. “Professor, you cannot ignore what’s been bestowed on you. It bears incredible power and prestige, yet you intend not to use it?” 

“I  _ will _ use it.” Byleth still refused to look at her. “I will use it to protect my students.” 

Surely she couldn’t be so naive? Edelgard glared into her back and moved to stand by her side. When she saw her profile, she noticed that Byleth’s eyes seemed to stare at something far away. “We will not be your students forever,” Edelgard pointed out. 

“Then… when the time comes, I suppose my answer will change.” Byleth’s voice sounded almost sad. 

Edelgard wanted to dig deeper, she wanted to find the truth that satisfied her need. She had to know. “And what if it were to come between the world and your students? Would your answer still be the same then?”

“Why would it be up to someone like me to defend the world? I’m just one person.” 

“With a Heroes’ Relic, you can eliminate entire armies with a single blow.” Edelgard felt the coldness settle in her bones again, chilling her. “Even without the sword, you are more powerful than you realize.” 

“The sword and my strength doesn’t change anything. I am no different from anyone else.” Byleth refused to budge. She became as hard as stone. 

How could she say that? She had the power of the gods in her hands, and she claimed to be like everyone else? Edelgard could only wish she had Byleth’s gifts. Her frustration and stress finally reached a boiling point. They broke from the surface, heating her skin and chasing the coldness away until all she felt was anger.

“It changes everything!” Edelgard shouted. “You could be a holy knight, like Sir Catherine. You could be deified! Lady Rhea even said she wanted your servitude.” 

Byleth finally looked at her. Her eyes were cold as ice as she glared. “You think I want that?” 

“I don’t know what you want,” Edelgard snapped. “Do you even want anything? Do you even care?” 

“Why are you asking me these things?” Byleth said, taken back. The stone of her wall cracked, and it weakened the harshness of her glare. Edelgard thought she saw pain in her eyes. 

“Who do you fight for? What do you live for?” Edelgard glared at her. It was as she thought before, the more she found out about Byleth, the less she knew. The conundrum of a woman before her was slowly becoming her bane. She couldn’t even look at her without her stomach knotting. Everytime their eyes met, her heart fluttered in her chest like a bird trapped in a cage. “I just don’t get you. It feels like I’m talking to a wall.”

Byleth’s stance went rigid, as if Edelgard buried her dagger in her belly. Her gaze dropped again. Her expression held nothing, but her eyes glinted in the sunlight. “I would’ve thought you of all people would understand,” she murmured coldly. “I am learning from you and the rest of the students just as much as you are learning from me.” 

Edelgard’s chest tightened.  _ No. _ The look in Byleth’s eyes was all she needed to see. It was like she said the night Edelgard found her stumbling home drunk, “Words cut deeper than swords.” She hurt her. The rift between them, once an icy canyon, widened and blackened into an abyss. It felt like there was no crossing it now. It felt like she lost her. 

“I don’t know if I can give you the answers you want,” Byleth admitted solemnly. Her eyes met Edelgard’s, unflinching. “But I speak the truth when I say I live and I fight for my students. That’s all I want right now. That’s all I care about. I’m sorry if that isn’t what you wanted to hear, but it’s all I have.”

“No, Professor, wait, I…” Edelgard was not able to finish. Byleth had already walked up the stairs. 

Somewhere on the horizon, thunder boomed. Edelgard felt the coldness return to her bones. 

  
  



	15. In Her Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares plague Edelgard as the stressors from the previous moon settle in. The lines between dreams and reality thin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING!**  
>  This chapter contains depictions of torture, imprisonment, knives, and scars. If you are sensitive to content of this nature, please skip this chapter.

Whispers hissed in the dark, quick and urgent. They faded like a breeze petering out in Edelgard’s ears, stirring her from sleep. Edelgard tried to find where the voices came from, but there was only darkness. Her eyes could be opened or closed, it did not matter. She saw nothing. The whispers returned, harsher. Or was that the squeak of rats scattering around her? She had to find out. But as she tried to rise, she was bound. 

_ Pain.  _

Edelgard whimpered, cognizant of the soreness in her ankles, her wrists. Chafed by the unforgiving steel of her shackles. 

_ Pain.  _

She rattled at her binds, crying out, but her voice was lost to the darkness. Swallowed. All that was there to mourn her cries for help were the rattling chains trapping her. The cold clangor of her shackles mocked her vain attempts at freedom, rubbing her skin raw. They held her down, forcing her to lie on the fouled slab she was pinned to. Was this filth her own? Or was it the poor soul’s before her? The reek of defecation made her eyes water… or was it…

_ Pain.  _

“Father!” she wailed.

A gurgling noise responded to her in the darkness. 

“Father?”

No, not Father. The gurgle bubbled into a babble, then a cackle, then a babble again. It repeated until Edelgard thought she would go mad. That was not Father, but that voice. It was familiar. She knew him. Even as he started shouting obscenities no young boy should utter, she knew it was him. 

She tried to call his name, her brother. She tried, but the words failed her. He was screaming too loudly. When his screams stopped, they were replaced by wheezes and choking noises.

It was never quiet. There were always whispers and screams and babbles. She heard sobbing and praying and cursing. 

She heard a voice, her sister, whimper, “El.” She was there, somewhere, shackled to the darkness alongside her. 

Days, moons, years could have passed, she didn't know. But slowly, one by one, their cries stopped. She was left with the sounds of the rats skittering across stone and maggots squirming, burrowing into rotting flesh. 

_ Pain.  _

The rats found her again. She was still for too long. She could feel their tiny claws on her naked skin, the disgusting tickle of their noses against her flesh. She always flailed and screamed before they could sink their teeth into her, though. They would go, running around her, waiting for her to fall victim to exhaustion again. 

When it wasn’t the rats prodding at her flesh, it was the knife. It glinted in the torchlight, an orange blade. It smiled as it cut into her. It did not stop no matter how loud she cried. She cried until her throat was as raw as her shackled skin. The feeling of her own blood seeping from her wounds was the only warmth she knew. 

“No!” She begged. “Stop! Please!” 

Her face was never void of tears and snot and spit as she sobbed and pleaded. They would never know, though. They could never see her face in the dark. They only slithered. They did not know the pain that wrought her face when they cut her naked body, peeled back her flesh, and let blood onto the stone she was strapped to. Or maybe they did know and didn’t care. She could see the outlines of their faces sometimes; strange, unfamiliar faces as gray as the stones around her with eyes that burned brighter than the torches they brought with them. Some smiled as they sliced into her flesh, others wore a grim frown of resignation, but they all hurt her the same. They were all deaf to her cries and blind to her tears. 

They let her bleed out until she thought there was nothing left. She bled until she couldn’t muster the strength to think anymore. Her limbs would grow too weak to lift, too cold to feel. 

For every drop of blood she lost, another took its place, pumping back inside of her. Sometimes, it burned, scorching its way into her veins. Sometimes, it felt like ice, biting to her bones. Sometimes, it felt like nothing at all, but the sound of it gushing into her body made her vomit all the same. 

Where was the end? 

“Father!”

Was there no end?

“Father!” 

Edelgard broke free of her chains, sitting up, panting wildly. Candlelight flickered against the walls surrounding her, and the shadows danced with it. She was in her room again at the monastery. Thunder greeted her, distant but deep, and her windows rattled. Beads of rain water shivered down the glass from the outside like tears. Occasionally, she’d hear the footsteps of passing guards among the distant rolls of thunder. She was safe. Or… was this still a dream? Edelgard brought her hands up to her eyes. They were trembling, but no fetters rubbed against her wrists. She brought her shaking fingers to her cheek, they felt wet. Tears? No, she lost those long ago. A cold sweat was what dampened her skin. She kicked off her blanket, scrabbling wildly at the hem of her chemise to unveil her legs. Her skin was free of incisions. Only scars remained to remember what it felt like to be cut open.

“Another stupid, pointless dream,” she whispered bitterly. Her voice was hoarse. Her throat was drier than bleached bones. 

Something soft brushed against her thigh. She glanced down, seeing her stuffed bear, Bo, laying against her. Its black eyes stared at nothing. She picked it up, hugging it to her chest, but it was not enough. Edelgard’s breath still came ragged from her lungs, running in and out of her windpipe until she was gasping. She set her bear down; not even Bo could help her tonight. On shaky legs, she walked across her dorm room to her vanity. There, she found her bowl of rosewater, and she splashed it vigorously against her face. The stench of festering wounds and human filth still lingered in her nostrils, but the floral aroma of the water slowly chased it away.

She didn’t hear the knock at her door. She was busy trying to wash away the stench and the pain. Her skin still crawled with the memories. Her pulse pumped wildly in her veins. She thought her heart might burst. 

“Edelgard…”

That voice. Edelgard looked up from the bowl. Standing in her room was Byleth, still dressed in full uniform, overcoat and all. This had to be a dream. Byleth would never come to her at this hour. Byleth would probably never come to her again after their falling out the day prior. Yes, this was just another dream. Edelgard pried her eyes away from the hallucination. She spread her palms out on her vanity, staring at her rippling reflection in the rosewater bowl. A scared, wide-eyed eighteen-year-old stared back at her. Her white hair was in disarray, framing her damp face with wispy flyaways. Her lips twitched like she was holding in a scream. 

“Edelgard.” 

Her again. Edelgard glanced sideways. Byleth hadn’t moved. She still stood there, watching her with concern in her eyes. One hand rested on the pommel of her steel sword. The Sword of the Creator was nowhere to be seen. Edelgard relaxed, but only slightly. At least her dreams were kind enough not to give Byleth her Relic. Edelgard’s bane. 

“May I sit?” Byleth asked, gesturing to Edelgard’s bed. 

Definitely a dream. Edelgard nodded quietly before she turned to splash water on her face again. All that remained in the bowl were shriveled up rose petals; they had been red once, but they had been turned pink overtime by the weight of the water. Faded. Edelgard felt one of the petals sticking to her cheek. She peeled it, rolling it between her fingers as she watched Byleth from her vanity mirror. For once, Byleth’s impossibly blue eyes did not stare through her. Instead, they were downcast. Her hands kneaded the comforter. She seemed deep in thought. 

“What are you doing here?” Edelgard asked. Her voice was still hoarse, but it had an edge to it. She wondered what fantastic excuse dream-Byleth would have for entering her chambers. She was too tired to ponder for long.

“I heard you.” 

It was not the reason she expected. Was this a dream within a dream perhaps? “I see… I apologize. I didn’t mean to cause any concern.”

“Bad dreams?” 

Edelgard froze. Of course dream-Byleth was as observant as the real one. She smiled sadly. “How did you know?”

“You cried out… I think you cried for your father.”

“It was just another useless dream I can’t control,” Edelgard insisted, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Will you come closer?” Byleth asked suddenly.

Cool water trickled down her face, dripping onto the red rug at her feet, but it did not soothe her like Byleth’s gaze did. Her chest still felt tight. Her heart still pounded with fear. The instant she moved closer to her, she would be gone, and the long shadows would drag Edelgard back to torture. The soft light in Byleth’s blue eyes encouraged her quietly, but it was the hand she extended that gave Edelgard the courage to walk forward. If this was a trick, if the nightmare still reigned, it did not matter; Byleth was worth the risk. Wordlessly, she closed the distance between them, coming to stand before Byleth, breathing shakily. 

“Can I hold you?” Byleth asked. 

This was the first dream Edelgard didn’t want to wake up from. “Yes.” 

Byleth stared up at her, bringing her hands gingerly around Edelgard’s waist. Her arms, strong and sure, pulled Edelgard between her legs, where she held her tight. Edelgard sighed softly. She felt so real.

“Come closer,” Byleth whispered, still staring up at her. Her hands stroked up the arch of Edelgard’s back softly. 

Edelgard shivered. For once, Byleth’s touch did not set her body aflame. Instead, it felt more like her body was dipped in the sweetness of milk and honey, where comfort was in abundance. The shadows shrunk around her as the light of Byleth’s eyes took hold. Come closer, she said. Edelgard wanted nothing more. She moved, putting her knees on either side of Byleth’s hips, and sat on her lap. Her silken chemise pooled around her thighs as she flushed against her, wrapping her arms around her neck and resting her head on Byleth’s shoulder. The scent of chamomile and lavender wafted off her skin. Was this really a dream? It had to be. Edelgard hurt her. Byleth would never want to hold her this way after the horrible things she said.

If Edelgard’s heart was pounding, she wouldn’t know, she was too absorbed by the sound of Byleth’s voice. 

“You’re safe now,” Byleth assured her. “Whatever haunts your dreams can’t harm you here.”

Byleth’s hands stroked up and down her back; her callused fingers pressed through the thin silk of her chemise, somehow feeling as gentle as the stroke of a feather. They traced along her spine, circling at the small of her back, then traveled back up again. Edelgard felt rosy warmth come over her. It was an unfamiliar warmth, but she welcomed it all the same, for it chased away the memory of cool steel ripping through her flesh and the pain of strange blood being injected into her veins. 

“I’m here,” Byleth murmured against her shoulder as Edelgard pressed her face into her neck. As she spoke, her lips brushed against her skin. She sighed at the fluttering feeling it brought to her chest. “I’m here,” Byleth said again, somehow sounding softer.

Tears left Edelgard long ago, but if she had them, she would cry. Was this what it meant to be held? How could her life be devoid of this for so long? The unfairness of it angered her and saddened her, tearing at her heart until it felt like a useless pulp. However, when she felt one of Byleth’s hands come to rest on the back of her head, her heart started to mend. As her fingers combed through her hair, she felt her heart grow. Edelgard curled her hands into Byleth’s hair, feeling her other hand wander down from her hip to gently squeeze her thigh. She sighed softly against Byleth’s neck and felt her shudder in response.

“I won’t ask what your dream was about,” Byleth said. Edelgard felt her fingertips trace meaningfully against her thigh, and she knew she found a scar. How could she not? They were everywhere. “I just want you to know that you can tell me anything.” 

“My dream...” Edelgard rasped. 

Byleth was quiet, waiting patiently for Edelgard to continue. Both hands were on her thighs now, caressing against the scars that maimed her pale skin. Edelgard refused to look at them. She already knew what they looked like. She knew how they wrapped around almost every inch of her tirelessly, betraying the secrets of her tortured past. Yet, Byleth touched them all the same. She didn’t seem to mind how precise and purposeful they were by design. They were intentional, not the hapless products of battle, but her fingers never left them. She didn’t shy away from any of them. She traced them all, caressed them. Edelgard felt the rosy warmth radiate to her toes and fingertips. She didn’t want this to end. She wanted to sleep forever if it meant she could be held this way.

It all seemed too real. 

Edelgard unwrapped her arms from around Byleth so she could gaze into her eyes. They looked into her, wide and curious, as Edelgard brought her hands to hold either side of her face. “Isn’t  _ this  _ a dream?”

Byleth frowned, confused. “What?” 

“This… you. You’re not…” Edelgard rubbed her thumbs softly against her face. “You’re not real.”

“Last time I checked, I was,” Byleth said, still frowning.

Edelgard dropped her hands, squirming uncomfortably in Byleth’s lap. Reality settled in. This was real. Byleth was real. Edelgard felt a light blush warm her face. “I--I’m sorry. Had I known, I wouldn’t have… touched you this way.” 

“You only touch me in your dreams?” Byleth asked, head tilted. 

Edelgard couldn’t help but laugh softly. “It’s not like that… my dreams usually aren’t this pleasant.” 

Their closeness revived Edelgard’s feelings. She shoved them away for so long, once she allowed them to return, they flooded into her. She allowed herself to drown in them, in her. This would be a stolen moment, nothing more, she promised herself. Edelgard allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of Byleth’s arms holding her. She let her mind seek solace in the sound of her voice and the light in her eyes. Byleth was here. Byleth was real. The candlelight that flickered in her room illuminated Byleth’s features in a warm light; she looked soft, she looked human, she looked… beautiful. Her dark hair framed her face, curling like the ocean’s waves against her skin. Edelgard did not have the strength to put up her defenses, not when her mere gaze would tear them down. As she let her feelings consume her, wash her away, she felt them deepen. Byleth came to her. After everything that transpired, she still came to her. Would she always come to her? Edelgard realized, helplessly, that she wanted the answer to be yes. 

“What are your dreams like usually?”

The truth was too much to say. Edelgard’s voice was lost when she tried to speak it. Fear still lingered in the corner of her bedroom, waiting to pounce once it was called upon and feast on her terrifying memories. She could only manage a half-truth. 

“My dreams,” she began, “are of my siblings. I had ten, eight older, two younger... but... I lost them all.” As she spoke of them, she heard their cries. Edelgard squeezed her eyes shut. “Some of them got… really sick. Or they lost their minds. I was never meant to rule the Empire, but I am the only one left. In the end, it has to be me.”

As she spoke, she felt Byleth stroke her back again. She pulled her close, hugging her. Edelgard wrapped her arms around her neck, sharing the embrace. Byleth was here. Byleth was real. She sank to the bottom of a rose-colored glass. The water was lukewarm and smelled of lavender and chamomile. She happily soaked it in. 

“It’s not just you.” Byleth’s voice, soft and reassuring, stirred Edelgard. She sighed into her teal-colored hair, pressing her face into her neck. Sleep tugged at her eyelids, fogging her senses as her body longed for rest; the peace and security that came with being in her arms lulled her. 

“I’m sorry,” Edelgard whispered.

“Why?” Byleth’s murmur felt as soft as a flower petal against her skin. Her touch was even softer.

“Why am I sorry?” Edelgard was incredulous. She leaned back to gaze into her eyes again. She felt her heart grow weak when she drank in the blueness of Byleth’s eyes. She remembered the gleam of pain in them when she shouted at her. “I hurt you. I yelled at you… You’ve been nothing but kind to me, you’ve saved my life multiple times, and all I could do to repay you was hurt you.” 

Byleth brought her hands to either side of Edelgard’s face. Her fingers traced softly beneath her eyes, down the side of her face, along her jaw. Edelgard turned to press her face into Byleth’s palm, shutting her eyes. “I haven’t made it easy for you,” Byleth murmured. Her other hand stroked the side of her neck softly and found her hair again, combing through it. “I know I can be hard to understand.” 

Edelgard whispered, “But I took my stress and my frustration out on you. I shouldn’t have done that… I’m sorry.” 

“I do feel things.” Byleth pulled Edelgard close again, so she was flush against her. Edelgard shivered at their closeness, wrapping her arms back around Byleth’s neck. She enjoyed the feeling of her hands pressing against her, holding her tight. “I just don’t know how to express those feelings.” 

“That’s okay.” Edelgard felt her eyes slowly starting to shut. 

The safety of her embrace softened her. Edelgard felt the coldness that plagued her bones fall into distant memory. She did not allow her mind to wonder how long this would last. She refused to dwell on the reality that Byleth would never hold her this way after the truth was unveiled. Edelgard relished the moment for what it was: a single, stolen moment. She buried her face in Byleth’s neck, curled her fingers in her hair, and sighed a tired sigh. The abyss that yawned between them seemed to shut. Edelgard could walk across the distance and stand by her side again. She could walk with her, if only for a little while. 

“I thought I lost you.” Edelgard’s voice was fading. She could feel her body slowly surrender to sleep as she relaxed into Byleth’s embrace. 

“I never went anywhere,” Byleth said, sounding confused. 

Edelgard was too tired to elaborate. Instead, she focused on the feeling of Byleth’s fingertips tracing circles in the small of her back. Byleth was here. Byleth was real. “When we leave the monastery, will you still think of yourself as my teacher?” Edelgard asked. Her mind was fogged by fatigue, her blood was warmed by the closeness of Byleth. She knew she was being thoughtless with her words, but she was too tired to realize so until they were already said.

“What do you mean?” Byleth’s lips brushed against her shoulder as she spoke. “Edelgard?”

Sleep reclaimed her, and for the first time, Edelgard enjoyed a dreamless sleep. For the first time, she felt safe in someone else’s arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it interesting the C support between Byleth and Edelgard that portray Edelgard having a bad dream and Byleth coming to visit her cannot happen until AFTER Byleth gets the SotC. The two chapters added today are a bit of a two-parter, hence why I posted them at the same time.


	16. Archer's Paradox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles conduct advanced training as they prepare for their upcoming mission.

Gray light shone through Edelgard’s window, reaching across her room to warm her face. She stirred at its touch, blinking slowly awake. As her eyes adjusted, the cathedral bells greeted her with their tolling gongs. It was the sixth hour. Edelgard stretched in her bed, and her muscles yawned to life. For once, fatigue did not leech her body. She rose, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Her eyes eagerly adjusted to the light of day. Was this what it felt like to feel rested?

Edelgard rubbed at the blankets that covered her, remembering. She fell asleep in her arms. Byleth’s arms. Her heart jumped at the memory, flooding her body with warmth. Byleth came to her. Her memories slowly rose from their slumber as she recalled them. Byleth wrapped her arms around her, hugged her close; Edelgard could still feel her hands stroking along her back, tracing along her thighs. Her heart quickened from a jump to a sprint, jogged by her recollection. Her fingers, how they caressed her face and combed through her hair. Byleth chased the shadows from her room just as the sunlight did. She was the one that delivered her to a restful slumber.

Feelings, as soft and warm as the sunlight that penetrated her windows, sighed into Edelgard’s heart. She had to hold her chest, for fear they might spill from her skin and be lost again. To think, she wanted these feelings gone. They swaddled her tighter than the blankets Byleth covered her in. If she wanted to, Edelgard could jump over the moon; the odd giddiness inside her encouraged her so. She jumped out of bed instead, but the movement was just as eager. 

To her surprise, Edelgard found a fresh cup of tea waiting for her on her vanity. She immediately recognized the faint citrus aroma and the honey-gold color of its contents. Bergamont. How did she know that was her favorite? Beside it, a pastry waited, glistening with an egg yolk glaze and crusted with crumbles of orange-infused sugar. Breaking off a piece, Edelgard savored the faint sweetness and tang of its citrus filling as the crust melted in her mouth. It was still warm. Edelgard could jump over more than just the moon. Even her rosewater bowl was replenished, happily holding bright red petals that had not yet faded in the water. 

Beside the bowl, next to her comb, rested a note scrawled with neat but blocky letters: REMEMBER DRILL TODAY. MEET AT MAIN GATE, 0700. 

With haste, Edelgard prepared for her day. Her scarlet pelice waited for her in her armoir, hanging neatly. She slipped off her chemise, letting it pool at her ankles. For once, she did not shy away from the reflection she caught in her mirror. If Byleth didn’t shy away, why should she? She could not look for long, though; soon her squeamishness returned, taunting her for her scars. Edelgard retrieved her bodice and smallclothes from the drawer of her armoir, slipping them on briskly. She expertly laced her bodice in the front. It did not hug her body as pleasantly as Byleth did, she realized sadly. Pulling over her pelice, she returned to her vanity to tend to her hair. 

In her reflection, she was surprised to see a wide-eyed young woman with a faint smile on her face. No dark circles plagued the skin beneath her eyes. Her face was not wrought with fatigue or sadness or anger. Edelgard’s smile widened as she combed through her snow-white hair. She stole sips of tea now and again between bites of her breakfast. As she tied her lilac ribbon into her locks, she remembered what it felt like to have Byleth’s fingers in it. Her insides melted like the sugar on her pastry, soaking into her, saccharine. 

With her hair in place, Edelgard pulled on her brown leather gloves, flexing her finger fingers into them. Her long black stockings slid over the soft skin on her legs, and she found herself thinking about Byleth touching her thighs again. Heat licked at her nerves. The gilded armor came next, resting on her shoulders and protecting her chest; another set shielded her legs from the knees down. Finally, her red half-cape draped down her back from her shoulders; its golden fringe glinted in the pale light. Edelgard braved her reflection. For once, she thought she looked… pretty. The idea was silly, of course, but the way Byleth looked at her last night made her think otherwise.

Hurrying out of her room, Edelgard was greeted by a rush of students. They all milled about the halls of the dormitory, lazily heading to class, talking with purposeful leisure. Hubert was a shadow standing among them, dressed in all black as if he were in mourning. He looked like a vulture propped up against the window, brooding over their inevitable deaths with a grave but resigned expression. 

“Good morning, Hubert,” she greeted. 

When Hubert looked up from his thoughts, his expression twitched into something strange. “My Lady.” 

They walked together down the hall. No laughs were made between them like the other passing students. They did not even make smalltalk. It was the kind of silence Edelgard welcomed, the silence she only ever enjoyed with Hubert. He never needed to fill the air with senseless jabber. 

Once they left the dormitory and entered the outdoors, they were greeted with a gray sky and a cool breeze. The clouds above were so heavy they looked ready to burst, but not even the concrete spires of the monastery could pierce them. The promise of a storm was foreboding, but the summer sun still shone through in beams of silver to reassure them. The scent of last night’s rain still lingered in the air. The taste of it was as refreshing as morning dew. Puddles congregated between the cobblestones underfoot, waiting to be splashed. Edelgard purposefully avoided them, while Hubert walked right across, unbothered by the wetness that soaked his robes. 

The Main Gate yawned before them. The portcullis drew up, but its iron fangs lingered at the top of the archway, promising to shut once more if danger approached. Edelgard and Hubert stood together at the mouth, seeing the rest of the Black Eagles already assembling with their professor. Edelgard’s body came to life at the sight of Byleth. Her iron armor glowed white beneath the shafts of morning sunshine. She was speaking to Ferdinand, and the faint sound of her voice above the noise of the waking monastery was enough to encourage Edelgard’s heart to skip once more. Byleth must have felt her staring because she glanced up from Ferdinand to return it, but only briefly. Edelgard forgot how to swallow, so she couldn’t help but gulp in surprise when Dorothea popped before her. 

“Good morning, Edie!” 

“Hi, Dorothea.” Edelgard smiled. 

“That smile…” Dorothea’s bright green eyes scanned her face. A coquettish smirk found its way onto her full lips. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” 

“A what? I just got a good night’s rest is all.”

“I’m sure you did.” Dorothea’s eyes glittered with knowing. She twirled her finger around the curl of her dark brown hair. “Don’t play coy, Edie. I know you too well for that.” Her teasing was good-natured, but it still made Edelgard blush. Dorothea turned to follow Edelgard’s gaze, and it led her straight to Byleth. “Did someone finally pay you a visit last night?” 

Edelgard almost choked. She felt Hubert tense beside her. With her face red as her pelice, Edelgard waved her hand. “Of course not!” What did she mean by finally? 

Dorothea’s laugh only made Edelgard blush darker. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of! We’re young. This is probably our only chance to have some  _ real _ fun, you know.” She glanced back at Byleth once more, nodding appreciatively. “If she came nightcrawling to my room, I know damn well I wouldn’t hesitate.”

Was it possible to melt from embarrassment? Edelgard was nearly there. “Wh--what’s that supposed to mean? Nightcrawling?” She never heard that term before in her life. Edelgard had to pinch the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes in order to gather her thoughts. “It’s not like that.”

“Aw, really? I was so happy for you too,” Dorothea said, sounding genuinely disappointed. “She might come off as a bit cold, but, I mean, come on, you’ve got to admit she’s good-looking. I know if I got that far with her, I’d announce it to the whole monastery. Now  _ that  _ would really give them something to pray about.” She was looking over her shoulder at Byleth again, smiling. “She’s got a noble-look to her; maybe she’s descended from some forgotten bloodline? That would explain the Crest and all.”

Byleth seemed anything but cold to her last night, Edelgard realized. The warmth in her eyes and the softness of her expression as her hands held her gently were the complete opposite of the frigid exterior she usually had. But Edelgard would never tell Dorothea that; it would only kindle her fire. She was right about her looks, though. Byleth’s features were as sharp and refined as the edge of a sword; they cut into her with every glance.

Dorothea caught Edelgard staring again and sighed wistfully. “Say what you want, Edie, but you can’t fool me.” She laughed and gave her a wink. “If you ever need any tips, just come find me, okay?” Just then, Petra and Bernadetta approached, saving Edelgard from Dorothea’s permissive presence as she ran to them. “Good morning, my beauties!” 

Edelgard heaved a sigh as Dorothea left her. Hubert failed to relax, however. He remained a petrified statue by her side, as if caught under the gaze of a basilisk. “She’s just being factitious,” Edelgard reassured him, though he still refused to thaw. “There’s nothing like that going on.” 

The cathedral bells rang proudly, proclaiming the seventh hour. Their chime sent doves flying into the gray sky, cooing softly. As the morning took hold of Garreg Mach, Edelgard became conscious of how it seemed to come alive. Priests shambled into the monastery, heads bowed in silent prayer. Knights assembled at the gates in formation, mounted on impressive destriers, holding the snowy white banners of the Church of Seiros. That was the fifth garrison mustered at the gates this week alone; Edelgard knew where they were headed. The inquisition of the Western Church was already in full swing, and the moon was still young. She tried not to dwell on that notion for long. 

“Good morning,” Byleth addressed the Black Eagles as the last bell rang. “I’m glad everyone came to…” She trailed off, raking over the students with her eyes. “We’re missing two.” 

“Two?” Edelgard echoed. All the Black Eagles students were present, glancing at one another in confusion. Edelgard stepped forward, voicing what everyone else was thinking, “We’re all here, Professor.”

“Not quite.” 

The Black Eagles turned around to see a young girl emerge from the shadows of the Main Gate. Her eyes glinted, as pale pink as rose quartz, in the sunlight. Her long hair tumbled to her waist in snowy rivulets. To the untrained eye, she looked albino, but Edelgard knew better. She could not help but look at her and hear the whispers in the dark and the sounds of slithering. When she noticed the young girl’s confident smile, Edelgard’s foggiest memories rolled into her mind’s eye; she thought of her sister. Though she could not remember her face, or even remember her name, she remembered her smile and how it sounded when she said: “El.” 

“Lysithea, welcome,” Byleth greeted. There was no warmth or welcome in her words, but the greeting made Lysithea smile all the same. 

“Hello, Professor, glad I could make it.” Lysithea stood among the Black Eagles. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. If anything, she seemed to be brimming with confidence. “I’m glad to have this opportunity to train with everyone.” Determination creased her brow. 

Edelgard stared down at Lysithea quizzically. When did Byleth have time to talk to her? 

Another voice emerged from the Main Gate, more frantic and apologetic than Lysithea’s. “Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late!” Mercedes tumbled out to join them, panting. Though her hair was neat and she smelled of sweet flowers, her shawl was in disarray, sliding off her shoulders like a loose curtain. “Thank you ever so much for waiting up for me, everyone! I--I forgot the drill time, and I may have slept in just a bit…” 

“Your shawl is falling off,” Edelgard pointed out.

Mercedes’s soft face mantled with a warm pink. “O--oh, goodness. Thank you, Lady Edelgard.” She hurriedly fumbled at the cream-colored cloth, rearranging it.

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters,” Byleth assured her. 

The warm pink mounted on Mercedes’s face darkened a shade. “Thank you, Professor. I promise it won’t happen again!” 

Again? Edelgard shuffled uneasily. She needed to remember why she encouraged Byleth to get close to Mercedes in the first place. Edelgard needed her as more than just a healer. She steeled her resolve with a steady inhale. 

“Today, we will be going to the field outside the monastery for advanced training,” Byleth announced. “I’ve invited Lysithea and Mercedes from the Golden Deer and Blue Lion Houses respectively to help us. Be prepared to get out of your comfort zone today.”

Byleth led them down the steps. Her overcoat furled in the wind like it was alive. Edelgard found herself wanting to walk faster so she could be by her side, but she tempered her longing. Last night was a stolen moment, nothing more. The closer she got to Byleth, the harder it would be to let her go. 

As they left the monastery and skirted around Garreg Mach Proper, the Black Eagles found themselves upon a field. It opened before them, rolling into the woods that surrounded the monastery. Clouds consumed the mountains, looking like plumes of smoke rising above the forest. Sunlight strong enough to pierce the veil of gray caught the verdant blades of grass, making them ripple with a glossy shimmer. The air smelled even sweeter now that they were outside the confines of stone walls. Edelgard relished the breeze that kissed her face. Byleth led them to a row of targets near a makeshift shack of training weapons. Garreg Mach pages scrambled around the field in preparation of the Academy training, waving and hollering their greetings as they skittered about like startled mice. They all wore matching uniforms of boiled leather and oiled chain metal, plain but practical. One day, they would wear the helms and sword belts of squires. Then, the ivory armor of the Knights of Seiros. 

“Form up for inspection,” Byleth commanded. 

Promptly, the Black Eagles shuffled into two rows of five. Byleth waited until they stood still before she inspected the formation. She started with the first row, pacing before them with purpose. Her eyes roved each student’s uniform as she sought potential flaws. Edelgard always thought Byleth looked most serious on drill days. 

“Caspar, tighten your boots,” Byleth ordered as she walked by him. 

Caspar gave a goofy grin and dropped to his knee, retying his shoes. 

“Lindhardt, your sash is coming undone.” 

Shrugging, Lindhardt retied the sash garnishing his white Priest robes. 

When Byleth came to stand before Edelgard, her heart fluttered in her chest eagerly. The tenderness that was in her eyes last night had frozen over. Her usual cold glare returned. Being under her eyes as she inspected her uniform, feeling her gaze explore every inch of her with a calculated purpose, made Edelgard’s body feel uncomfortably hot. She remembered before the honor ceremony when Byleth called her beautiful and the heat within rose. Did she still think that? 

Finding nothing amiss, Byleth left Edelgard without a word. Edelgard could breathe again.

“Hubert, your robes are soaked at your feet.” Byleth glared at him with a steely expression. “I thought you’d take more pride in your uniform.”

“Apologies, Professor.” Hubert spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“He just wanted to splash around in the puddles this morning, Professor!” Ferdinand crowed from the back row.

From the corner of her eye, Edelgard saw Hubert’s face twist into something terrifying. “I suggest you hold your tongue before I cut it out of you.”

Ferdinand only laughed. 

“I’ll remind both of you not to talk in formation,” Byleth said. The strain in her voice betrayed her frustration. “I have half a mind to send you both to clean the stables.” 

“Again, you have my apologies, Professor.” Hubert bowed, but Edelgard suspected it was to hide his mutinous expression. 

“Yes, yes, mine as well,” Ferdinand said airily. 

Byleth nodded and proceeded to inspect the back row, leaving Hubert to polish his hates. Edelgard glanced at her vassal, frowning. It was rare for him to lash out in front of Byleth. Something was eating at him, she knew it, but what?

Once Byleth was satisfied with her students, she returned to the front of the division. “Our mission this moon will be our most challenging yet,” she said. “The leader of the thieves we are tasked to take down is named Miklan. It is known he stole a Relic from House Gautier, which makes him the strongest enemy you will face since joining the Academy. I will not allow you to battle against him without the proper training.” She stared at no one in particular until she said, “I won’t be going easy on you. Now more than ever, it is a matter of life and death.”

Edelgard’s eyes widened. For those last few words, Byleth held her gaze and never let it go. 

“There will come a time in battle when you may have to rely on a complete stranger to save your life. You need to learn to rely on the support of those that fight alongside you, regardless of your differences or how well you know them. Today, I will be splitting all of you into teams of two so you may learn from one another.” 

Byleth moved to stand before Caspar. “You will team up with Petra. I want you to teach her some basic brawling skills.”

Caspar jumped for joy out of formation, standing beside Byleth with an eager expression. “Alright! This is great!” 

Petra seemed confused as she left formation to join her training partner. Byleth noticed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “If you’re ever dismounted and weaponless, which could happen in a real battle, I want you to be able to defend yourself.”

“I have understanding.” Petra smiled. She hooked her arm around Caspar’s neck. “Give me strength, Caspar!”

Caspar gagged under her grip, eyes bulging comically. “You’re a natural.” 

The first pair marched off to the sand pit. Edelgard could not tell which one looked more excited.

“Lindhardt, you will be working with Dorothea. I want you to go more in-depth with white magic.” 

“Joy,” Lindhardt murmured, sounding not joyful at all. 

“Dorothea, show Lindhardt all you can in regards to black magic.”

“I’ll do my best, Professor.” Dorothea gave Byleth a wink, linked arms with the weary Lindhardt and whisked away.

“Next, Ferdinand and Bernadetta.” Byleth waited for the students to come forward. Ferdinand practically galloped out of formation like a show pony, while Bernadetta scurried like a mouse. “Ferdinand, I want you to show Bernadetta some basic riding skills. There’s a palfrey in the field waiting for you with the pages.”

Edelgard didn’t think it was possible for Ferdinand to radiate with even more self-importance, but he did just that. “I’d be honored, Professor.”

“Oh no…” Bernadetta mumbled. 

Ferdinand was already talking his partner’s ear off before they left. Bernadetta looked ready to shrink into obscurity. 

“Lysithea.” 

At Byleth’s summons, Lysithea came to the front of the formation, or, what was left of it. Edelgard realized, to her horror, that there were only three of them left. Mercedes was one of them. Her heart hammered at the possibilities. She hoped to be paired with Lysithea; if what she heard about her magic skills was true, she would be a more than capable teacher.

“You will work with Hubert,” Byleth said. 

“Beg your pardon?” Hubert growled. 

Byleth gestured for him to come forward, and he did so grudgingly. “Lysithea is profoundly skilled in dark and black magic. Professor Hanneman and I agreed you two would have much to learn from one another.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, if only partially,” Hubert muttered. If his mood darkened anymore, Edelgard feared he would morph into an abyss. 

Lysithea’s face scrunched up in distaste. In her defense, Hubert was less palatable than normal today. “Don’t underestimate me,” she warned. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I’m going to prove it to you.”

Byleth seemed to sense their tension. “Lysithea is one of the strongest conjurers in the Academy. It’s to your benefit to listen to her.”

“And what does that make me?” Hubert growled. 

“A strong conjurer that can stand to learn from others,” Byleth answered flatly. “No one person is too great to rely on someone else.”

“Don’t worry, Professor. I’ll show him everything I know.” Lysithea’s chirp stabbed at Hubert’s already pained expression.

Hubert regarded Lysithea as if she were an overexcited dog; he bristled like a disturbed cat. Edelgard wondered if he would start hissing and draw his claws. Lysithea was unintimidated by him, though, and if she had a tail, it would be wagging. Together, they left for training, leaving Edelgard alone with Mercedes. 

“That leaves you two,” Byleth said, glancing between them. 

Mercedes came to stand beside Edelgard, smiling pleasantly. “What do you want us to do, Professor?”

“Archery.” 

Edelgard’s heart sank. She hoped she would be the one leading the training, but she did not know the first thing about archery, which meant… 

“Oh! You want me to lead?” Mercedes sounded as flattered as she was surprised. “I’d be honored, Professor.”

Choking down her disappointment, Edelgard managed a smile. “I’m always willing to learn something new.”

“Lady Edelgard, I will try my best to make this training worthwhile for you.” Mercedes took her hand, squeezing it meaningfully. There truly was no parallel to the kindness in her. It made Edelgard shrivel into a tart raisin. “I know you’re the strongest of the Black Eagles already--Dimitri told me so, so… I’ll work hard to impress you!”

“Mercedes, really, you don’t need to pressure yourself like this.” Edelgard tightened the reins on her graciousness, but it was ready to ride off into the sunset and leave her feeling bitter. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Byleth said. Her overcoat waved farewell as she left to monitor the progress of the other teams.

Edelgard did not let the silence between them marinate into something pungent. “Shall we? It looks like those targets are meant for us.”

“Oh, yes! Let’s.” Mercedes had not let go of Edelgard’s hand, and she guided her to the targets with a small smile. “I’ll be honest, I’m not much of a fighter. If I had my way… I’d dedicate my life to healing others, not hurting them.” 

‘You graduated from the Royal School of Sorcery, didn’t you?” Edelgard asked. “You could’ve easily found an occupation more to your liking after that, yet you chose to enroll in the Academy.” 

Mercedes hesitated as she retrieved two quivers from the shed. When she gave one of them to Edelgard, she refused to meet her eyes. “There’s still much I must learn.”

Unconvinced, Edelgard frowned as she strapped the quiver over her shoulder. “You seem proficient enough to me.” 

“Lady Edelgard, you’re too kind.” Her smile seemed forced; there was a glint of sadness in her lavender eyes. “Besides, it’s more than just my education. I enrolled in the Academy to get closer to the Goddess as well.”

“I see… and when you finally feel you are great at everything, what will you do?” 

Mercedes placed a bow in Edelgard’s other hand. Her eyes were downcast. “It’s not that I want to be great at everything… I just want to be good for something.”

“But you  _ are _ good for something.” Edelgard felt disingenuous for saying so, but she said so nonetheless. She wondered how Mercedes would react if she found out the truth, the real reason the House of the Black Eagle needed her, why Edelgard needed her. It only wounded her more to realize that Mercedes would probably forgive her, maybe even understand her. Edelgard wondered how long it would take before she was strangled by her own web of lies. “People are attracted to you, they see you and are healed by the kindness in your words and actions. You make their lives brighter.”  _ And I only bring darkness. _

“It doesn’t feel that way. That’s why I pray. I pray so that I may find the light in myself and others.” Mercedes’s smile became bright once more. A breeze rustled through the field, curling into her rose gold hair. She was beautiful, even with sadness in her eyes. “How about I show you how to hold the bow now?”

“Of course.” 

The bow felt light as a feather in her hand. Edelgard did not think it was possible. The sword was light enough in comparison to her axe, but the bow may as well have been a twig. She weighed it in her palm curiously. It was just a training bow made of wood, but Edelgard found herself admiring the craftsmanship. 

“You will draw with your strong hand,” Mercedes instructed. “Use the other to hold the riser--that’s the little handle-looking piece right there.” She pointed to the grip joining the upper and lower limbs of the bow. 

“I can use either hand,” Edelgard said.

“Really? That’s amazing!” Mercedes’s excitement was almost childlike. “Well, I guess that just means you can pick whatever is most comfortable.” She traced her finger along the inside of the bowstring. “This is called the belly, that’s where you place the nock--or backend--of the arrow when you load it. Once it’s loaded, you pull, pull, pull until the belly is full and release!” She giggled. “Do you like my rhyme? I made it up myself.”

“It’s cute.” Edelgard smiled, making Mercedes laugh some more. She tugged at the bowstring, plucking a chord. “Where did you learn all this anyways?” 

“From my mother.” Mercedes’s expression became wistful. “She was a fantastic archer. I guess you can say it runs in the family? Not that I’m fantastic or anything… maybe one day.”

“Where do you hail from, Mercedes?” Edelgard asked. 

“I’ve lived in many places in my life, but… I was born in the Empire, like you.”

“Into nobility?”

Mercedes nodded. “Yes, but, it’s probably not a House you would know.”

“I’m heir to the Empire,” Edelgard reminded her. “I make a point to know all the noble Houses.”

“House Martritz.” Mercedes said the name without feeling, as if she did not realize the crushing blow she dealt her. 

“Martritz?” Edelgard echoed, fearing the name would get stuck in her throat. That was not the name she was expecting, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Mercedes was only a half-sister to the man that called himself Death. She had to come from somewhere before. She just wished it didn’t have to be Martritz.

Mercedes nodded. She was tending to her arrows, admiring the white feathers fletched into the wood. “Mhm. I never knew my father though, he died the same year I was born.” 

Edelgard felt sweat gather in her palms, cold and clammy. Martritz… A name she tried hard to forget. A name buried in the dark past of her country. “I know of Martritz,” she said. 

House Martritz, an old but minor House of the Empire. Headed by Juste von Martritz, a proud but fair man that was known for his boundless love for his family. Edelgard knew little of how Juste lived, but she knew how he died. He died to save his only child, the child that was teaching Edelgard how to use a bow and arrow. If Edelgard gripped her bow any tighter, it would break. She heard stories in court of the Fall of House Martritz; as a child she never understood what it meant to be a smaller House. Edelgard wasn’t a child anymore, though. She knew how the smaller Houses were bullied and berated into carrying out the less pleasurable policies enforced by the Empire. House Martritz could handle that, however. It was an older house, after all, primed by time and made stronger for it. It was not until a  _ different _ proposition slithered onto the Martritz’s doorstep that the House failed to cooperate. It came as a letter: 

_ To the Head of House, Juste von Martritz,  _

_ Your daughter has been blessed with the wonderful opportunity to benefit the Adrestian Empire and Fodlan as a whole. She will be charged to the brightest minds of the century. As their ward, she will be endowed with strength beyond comprehension. She will become the face of a new generation destined to return the Empire to its days of former glory. _

_ As thanks for your cooperation, House Martritz will gain a seat on the formal council and enjoy the benefits of a noble House of higher ranking.  _

Of course, Juste never agreed to send his daughter anywhere. He was stripped of his title, his land, and eventually his life. The Martritz estate was left to rot under the jurisdiction of House Arundel and the Head of House was left to rot six feet under; not even Juste’s widowed wife and infant daughter were able to pick the bones clean before they had to flee into the arms of House Bartel. History books would go on to write a vague but believable story of a weak House that was not strong enough to recover from the untimely death of their leader, but Edelgard knew better. The atrocities committed by Those Who Slither in the Dark began long before Edelgard was born. 

“Lady Edelgard?” Mercedes tilted her head to meet her far-off stare. “Is something wrong? Do you feel sick? I can get you some water.” 

“No, no, I’m fine.” Edelgard managed a smile. “I was just thinking.” 

Her mind could not help but imagine what Mercedes would look like had her father cooperated. The rose gold hair she had that captivated the sunlight would instead be bleached white. Her irises would pale from lavender to lilac or pink or some near-translucent color that burned in the light. She wondered if Mercedes would still find it in her heart to pray if she was the one strapped down onto a stone slab getting her flesh cut into. Would she still believe the Goddess was good? Would she still follow the Church? Then again, the chances of Mercedes even surviving were slim to none; those were the early days of experimentation, after all. Those were the days they cut too deep and let their victims bleed out for too long. Nausea found its place in Edelgard’s stomach, happily tying knots inside of her until she thought she would vomit. 

“Lady Edelgard?” Mercedes brushed her hand against her cheek. “Are you sure you feel okay? We can take a break.”

Edelgard pushed her hand away. “I’m fine. I just… It’s nothing.” Her face screwed up with determination. “I’m ready to continue.” 

Mercedes frowned, pushing her forehead up against Edelgard’s. Edelgard’s breath caught. “Hmm… Well, you don’t have a fever, so I guess you’re fine.” She smiled softly. “Let’s continue.”

Edelgard squeezed the bow’s riser, glaring ahead at the targets waiting to be struck. “What must I do?” 

“Retrieve an arrow from your quiver. Make sure there’s no damage to the shaft, arrowhead, or fletching. If it’s damaged, your arrow could pitch or yaw.” 

“I wouldn’t know what to look for,” Edelgard mumbled, eyeing her arrow quizzically. It seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary. It was not bent oddly. All the black feathers it was fletched with seemed intact. The arrowhead seemed dull, though. “I suppose it’s acceptable? But the head, it’s not that sharp.”

Mercedes approached to inspect her arrow. “It’s perfect! We use blunt arrowheads for training, just in case. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.” She patted Edelgard’s back. “Okay, you’re ready to load. Remember, bring the nock to the belly and pull until it’s full!” 

Following instruction, Edelgard loaded her bow. She pinched right before the fletchings, where the shaft began to taper. She guided the arrowhead until it pointed at the bullseye sitting patiently before her. Then, she pulled. 

“Lady Edelgard, your draw is incredible! I  _ knew _ you were really strong. We may have to find you arrows with more spine...” Mercedes admired the tautness of her bowstring. “Lift your elbow just a tad, please, yes, like that! Okay, and… release!” 

Edelgard let the arrow tremble as she drew it back tight. “It looks like I will hit the bow,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Trust your aim. It’s just a trick your eyes play on you,” Mercedes encouraged. “You’re already doing fantastic. Look at your stance!”

“Please, enough praise,” Edelgard murmured, feeling flustered. 

Mercedes giggled. “But you deserve it! Now, release.”

The arrow whistled free. Edelgard watched with furrowed brows as the arrow pelted across the field for its target. To her chagrin, it landed on the outermost ring of the bullseye. She cursed under her breath. 

“Don’t get discouraged. This was your first shot. Even hitting the target is good enough,” Mercedes assured her. 

“Well, it’s not good enough for me.” Retrieving another arrow from her quiver, she reloaded again. 

Mercedes hovered by her side. “Just don’t be too hard on yourself. This is your first time, after all.” 

Ignoring her, Edelgard released her arrow. It volleyed to the bullseye, this time just barely catching the edge of it before falling off. Edelgard spat. She loaded again. 

“Lady Edelgard--”

“I’m fine! Just let me do this.” 

As if to mock her, the third arrow careened sideways, landing somewhere in the grass. Frustration welled up inside of her, bubbling with taunts.  _ As if _ you  _ could be good at anything. You’re only good for swinging an axe.  _ Why did Byleth order her to do archery, anyway? She was already proficient in black magic, she had her fire. She could use a sword, an axe, even a mace or hammer if she needed to. What good was a bow and arrow? 

Clenching her teeth, she hissed in frustration as the fourth, fifth, sixth arrow failed to make the bullseye. They haplessly littered her target, laughing at her. The seventh and eighth arrows landed somewhere in the yard. “Damn it all,” Edelgard mumbled. 

“It just takes practice.” Mercedes placed a hand on her shoulder gingerly. “Please don’t get upset. You’re doing really good.” 

“You think  _ that _ is good? No. I can do better.” Edelgard loaded her bow, shrugging off the feeling of Mercedes watching her with concern. 

The ninth arrow landed closer to the center than the others, but it was not close enough to please Edelgard. She seized her tenth arrow from the quiver. “I’ll need another quiver, please,” she said to Mercedes. 

Mercedes already had a second quiver ready. “You are a lot like Byleth.” 

Edelgard stiffened as she prepared her bow. “How so?” It was strange hearing a student say her name so casually. A prickle of jealousy wormed into her heart. 

“You both push yourselves too hard. If you keep doing that, you could end up in a bad place. I don’t like seeing people overwork themselves.” Mercedes’s concern was prominent enough to be tangible. “Byleth is always staying up late training or reading or helping the knights stand watch. She is always trying hard to take care of everyone. It makes me wonder if she ever takes a break.”

“Oh?” Edelgard launched another arrow, not sure if she was liking where this was going. 

“What I’m saying is, although I admire your and Byleth’s work ethic, it makes me worry.”

Mercedes was right, but Edelgard didn’t realize it until she said something. Byleth and her  _ were _ a lot alike. Why didn’t she notice sooner? The worm of jealousy swelled into envy, weighing down her heart. It was because she also worked too hard. She never took the time to see what Byleth did outside of class because she was busy working herself. “I don’t mean to cause you worry. I’m sure my teacher doesn’t either.” 

“It’s okay. As long as you both know you can come to me if you need anything, that’s all I care about. No one should have to struggle through life alone. We all need to learn to rely on one another.” 

Byleth deserved someone like Mercedes. For Edelgard, her ambition would always come first. It had to. She could not stop and be there for Byleth if it meant losing sight on what mattered most. Mercedes could tend to her and prioritize her as a friend, ally, and… maybe even lover... more than Edelgard ever could. She was already being pulled in five different directions to the point it felt like her joints would snap. It was not fair for her to want Byleth when she couldn’t give her everything she needed. 

The arrow she launched landed far off in the field. 

In the distance, thunder rumbled. Large droplets of rain eagerly fell from the heavy sky to splash against Edelgard’s face. The storm arrived. 

“Oh no! We should hurry back to the monastery, this looks like it can get bad.” Mercedes watched the sky with wide eyes. She flinched as thunder boomed down at her. “I… don’t much like this weather.” Her voice faltered as she spoke. “But even the worst of storms end in a rainbow!” 

Edelgard wasn’t listening. She had another arrow drawn, ready for launch. “You go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“Are you sure?” 

Lightning flashed, quickly followed by a roar loud enough to shake the broad oak trees in their roots. Edelgard didn’t care. She was already shooting her next arrow. “Leave,” she said firmly. “Tell Professor and the others I’ll join them shortly.” 

The sound of Mercedes running away was muffled by the steady hiss of rainfall. It obscured Edelgard’s vision, dripping down her forehead into her eyes. The field, once glimmering with sunlight, grayed with the fog of the storm. Rain splattered up from the puddles that slowly grew around her, muddying her golden armor. Edelgard was numb to the cold, even as the water trickled down her neck into her clothes. She only focused on the bullseye. The arrow whistled with the wind, making it fall sideways into nothing. She hissed with displeasure. 

“Can’t I get one thing right?” Edelgard sighed. 

Lightning crackled once more as Edelgard started on her second quiver. As she loaded her bow, she felt something warm drape over her head. Rain no longer fell into her eyes. Instead, it was soaked into the dark fabric that covered her. Edelgard recognized the scent wafting off the cloth immediately. “Professor?” 

Edelgard turned around to see Byleth standing behind her with her arms crossed. “You shouldn’t be out here like this. You’ll get sick.”

“I want to make the bullseye,” Edelgard said. She felt like a scorned toddler as Byleth glared down at her. 

Without her overcoat, the broadness of her shoulders was more apparent. She seemed smaller, but stronger. Water rolled off Byleth’s armor and onto her skin, but she did not shiver. Her eyes alone were colder than any element that dared to weather her. “If you do, will it be worth it?”

“Yes,” Edelgard insisted, turning back around to resume her training, but Byleth caught her shoulder. 

“Enough. I won’t allow you to work yourself like this.” Her expression was set like stone, cold and unfeeling. Edelgard found herself longing to see her softness again. She searched her eyes for it, but found none. “We’re going back.” 

“Why? Mercedes said you’re constantly overworking yourself, staying up late, training and reading and doing everything you can for us. I want to do the same.”

Byleth’s hand gripped her shoulder. “You don’t need to do the same. You're just a student.” 

“I’m more than that. I’m heir to the Empire before anything else. If I can’t get something as simple as archery right, then how am I supposed to lead my people? Let me do this.” 

“When I look at you, I don’t see the heir to an Empire. I see Edelgard,” Byleth said. She leaned down so that their eyes were level with one another. “And right now, Edelgard is soaked to the bone, thinking she can make a bullseye in the pouring rain.”

Edelgard’s throat felt tight. Yes, Mercedes was what Byleth deserved, but that did not stop her from wanting Byleth to choose her anyway. Her life would be so much simpler if she was not born into House Hresvelg, but destiny was not known for being kind. A life just as Edelgard, nothing more; it seemed so ridiculous she almost laughed. She shut her eyes with a sigh.

“Look at me.” 

Edelgard opened her eyes, feeling her chest tighten. Byleth hadn’t moved. She was still staring into her eyes intently, as if she was peering into her very soul. She wondered if she liked what she saw. Despite the cold of the pouring rain, she suddenly felt warm.

“You asked me last night if I would still think of myself as your teacher when we left the monastery.” 

“I did?” Edelgard’s face reddened. It seemed fatigue made her thoughtless.

Byleth nodded. “It made me wonder. Do you want me to be more?”

“I…” The idea of Byleth being anything more than her teacher made Edelgard’s heart take flight. She quickly returned her heart to its cage and clipped its wings. She couldn’t be anything more than that, she wouldn’t want to, not once she knew the truth. Her ambition would always come first, so she said, “It doesn’t matter what I want. You once said when the time came, you would choose the path you believed in with all your heart. The choice has to be yours.” 

Byleth stared at her for a long time. Rain soaked her hair, turning it black. Her eyes burned bright through the rain that fell between them, but the gentleness seemed to return, slowly melting her glare into a gaze. Hesitantly, she stroked her thumb across Edelgard’s cheek, wiping away the beads of rain that remained there. For one crazed heartbeat, Edelgard thought it looked like Byleth wanted to kiss her. Instead, she tucked a stray lock of white hair behind her ear and dropped her hand. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, then,” she decided. She stood to her full height again and offered her hand. “Come on.” 

Edelgard stared at Byleth’s hand as if it was a wild animal. Carefully, she took it. Her overcoat kept her warm even as the rain fell harder, sending mud and water splashing up her legs, but Byleth’s touch made her even warmer. “Thank you for leaving me breakfast this morning,” she murmured. 

“You’re welcome.”

Edelgard squeezed her hand as thunder rumbled above. “How long did you stay?”

“You fell asleep pretty quickly, so I was going to leave right after that, but I changed my mind.” 

“You stayed the whole night?” Edelgard couldn’t suppress her shock. “But… why?”

“I wanted to stay with you.” Byleth stared ahead, there was a strange emotion in her eyes. “I wanted to stay because you said my name.” 

“Is that all I said?” Edelgard feared what emotions escaped her in her sleep. 

“It was all you needed to say to get me to stay.”


	17. Meaningful Coincidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles embark on their most challenging mission yet. Along the way, they make meaningful encounters.

A torrent of iron marched through the dense forest. The clangor it made carried across the mountains, rumbling like the thunder above. Clouds followed, dark and heavy, brewing a tempest that would soon eagerly unleash across the Kingdom. The wrath of rain and lightning would take hold, shaking the trees in their roots and drenching the earth until it became nothing but sodden mud. But for now, there was only thunder and the chorus of clanging metal. Wind howled after the soldiers, chasing them deeper into the woods, further from the sanctuary of Garreg Mach.

At the forefront of the troops, Edelgard felt exposed. There was no one to march behind, no steps to match. She set the pace. The soldiers carrying on were following  _ her _ . And there were a lot of them. Jeralt’s mercenaries, The Adorers, and the squires and knights following Sir Gilbert all marched with the Black Eagles, doubling the size of their usual force. No longer nestled between the rest of the students, Edelgard felt a sense of duty strapped to her back alongside her axe. This was what it meant to be a Lord, and soon, an Emperor. It made her as excited as it did nervous. She imagined the day when she would lead her Imperial Army into battle; to her dismay, she was unable to imagine that day without Byleth by her side. It made her heart twinge painfully. Edelgard stole a sideways glance at Byleth. As usual, she stared ahead with an emotionless expression. 

“It shouldn’t be long before we reach the territory of House Gautier. There, we should find Miklan occupying Conand Tower,” Sir Gilbert said. He marched alongside Byleth, staring ahead with an expression listless enough to rival the professor’s. 

Edelgard had to relax at that. Her legs ached from their journey and the battle had not yet started. She feared they would fall off before they reached the enemy, then she’d just be a torso waiting to be impaled. “The Head of House must be desperate to call upon the Church for help,” Edelgard said. 

“Well, if the rumors are true, Miklan is a terrifying force to behold,” Sir Gilbert said. Even in his old age, with his ginger hair streaked with white, he did not falter in his steps. Mud caked onto his pale armor, making him look more like a man that took a roll in the gutter than an esteemed Knight of Seiros, but his chin was raised with pride. “Besides, when an unholy man like Miklan gets their hands on a Relic, it immediately falls on the Church to get involved. Archbishop Rhea likely would have sent a vanguard sooner, but our forces are being stretched thin thanks to those bastards at the Western Church.”

“I see.” Edelgard stared ahead, thinking. With the majority of the Knights of Seiros occupied by the inquisition and Miklan, Garreg Mach was left painfully exposed. Ice froze over her blood, slowing her steps. This was it. This was what her slithering allies were waiting for. She knew them well enough to know that they would wait for the strongest of the monastery to leave before they made their next move; without Edelgard there to oversee their work, she had a feeling it would get decidedly nasty. 

“Edelgard, what’s wrong?” It was the first time Byleth spoke since they left the monastery. 

Edelgard shook her head, picking up the pace to walk beside Byleth again. “My legs hurt.” It wasn’t a total lie.

“Back in my day, my commanding officers would make us march through half the Kingdom before we got a break,” Sir Gilbert said. “You younglings don’t know how easy you have it.” 

Edelgard’s expression soured. She could use a lot of different words to describe her life, but “easy” was not one of them. 

“I can carry you,” Byleth offered, ignoring Sir Gilbert. 

“That won’t be necessary, thank you, Professor.” Edelgard hid her blush by looking into the woods. Darkness flanked either side of them. With the sun hidden behind the swirling storm clouds, the shadows had free reign. They played tricks on her eyes, making her think there were men watching them between the trees.

The sound of a galloping horse emerged from the rear. Mounted on a chestnut courser, Ferdinand stole to the front of the echelon erratically. “Professor!” 

“For the last time, Ferdinand, just because Edelgard is leading the vanguard does not mean you are entitled to as well,” Byleth said in monotone. 

“N-no! It’s not that. We’re being tailed.” Ferdinand gestured wildly behind him. “I kept to the rear and maintained watch, as you requested, and I spotted a mounted soldier coming straight for us!” 

Byleth froze, halting the entire garrison with a raised hand. The glare in her eyes could freeze over the entire forest. “Are they alone?”

“It seems so,” Ferdinand said. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “But I didn’t hang back too long to confirm. As soon as I saw someone approaching, I came straight to you.”

“What will we do, my teacher?” It made no sense for a soldier to be coming up on them from the rear, not when their enemies waited for them ahead. 

“We will intercept our pursuer before they reach us.” Byleth turned to Sir Gilbert. “Hold the front, Edelgard and I will investigate with the rest of the Black Eagles.”

Sir Gilbert nodded; his expression was grave enough to push up daisies. “Should you require assistance, call for me.”

Edelgard waved at the Black Eagles students, prompting them to break ranks. Together with Byleth, they ran towards the back of the formation. Their march left the trail in shambles. Mud and peat piled high around the hundreds of footsteps they left behind. Puddles swarmed the dents in the road, waterlogging it into oblivion. In the distance, a pale courser came to view; its mane was as gray as the sky above. On its back rode a man in full armor with hair as red as scarlet. 

Mercedes recognized him first. “Sylvain?” 

Edelgard narrowed her eyes. It was true. Sylvain was the man tailing them, and he was alone. “Why would he follow us all this way?”

Crestfallen, Mercedes clasped her hands together in silent prayer. “It seems he found the courage to face the man that hurt him most.” 

Byleth stepped to the center of the road to meet Sylvain, arms crossed. “What is the meaning of this?” 

Tugging at the reins of his mount, Sylvain stopped before Byleth with a lopsided grin. “I figured you could use the help.”

“We have more than enough men on our side. Does Professor Manuela know you’re here?” Byleth’s practiced monotone made her seem angrier than she really was. Edelgard found herself understanding, however; she was not angry, she was concerned. 

“What does it matter? I’d be rotting in the monastery if I was not here.” Sylvain’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a shadow in his hazel eyes. “The more the merrier, am I right?” 

“You know I cannot assume responsibility for a student that left the monastery without permission. I’m not your professor.” Byleth nodded to Ferdinand. “Make sure he gets back to Garreg Mach. We’re wasting time.” 

“Wait!” Sylvain cried out.

Byleth froze, turning her glare back at him in silence. 

Sylvain jumped from his horse, landing in the mud. His bravado was lost in the pained expression on his face. He knelt before Byleth, letting his armor get caked with mud. He stared into the shivering puddle before him. “Please, I must join you.”

“Why?” 

Mercedes ran to Byleth, grabbing her arm. “Professor, it’s Miklan, he’s--”

“He’s my brother.” Sylvain finished Mercedes’s sentence. A mixture of anger and pain contorted his words. “House Gautier may have disowned him, but he’s still my blood. This… this is my mess. I won’t allow anyone else to clean it up in my stead. So, please, let me join you.” 

Edelgard could not recall a time she had seen Sylvain look more humbled. He was usually basking in the praise of his admirers, or sharing laughs with his closest friends in the Blue Lions. Right now, he seemed to be nothing but a shell of the man in Edelgard’s memories. Edelgard knew more than anyone what it felt like to inherit the problems of a House. 

“Let him come,” Edelgard said. “We can’t take this away from him. This is his fight just as much as it is ours.” 

Byleth considered this and nodded. She offered Sylvain a hand, helping him back to his feet. “Why didn’t you approach me at the monastery?” she asked. 

Sylvain avoided her stare. “I... I was a coward. I didn’t think I could face Miklan, not after--”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” Byleth must have sensed his growing distress. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Any man willing to take up arms and fight is not a coward in my eyes.” She nodded to his steed. “Mount your horse, let’s move out.” 

Sylvain’s smirk returned. He gave a lazy salute, chuckling. “Yes, ma’am.” 

As the Black Eagles returned to formation, Edelgard fell into step beside Byleth, smiling. No matter how cold her exterior was, she had the sneaking suspicion someone softer hid behind the frost. “It was kind of you to allow Sylvain to stay,” she said. 

“It’s like you said, this is his fight just as much as it is ours. I’m not going to take that away from him, no matter what the rules dictate.” With her expression set in stone, she returned to the front, glaring at Sir Gilbert. “We added another student to our ranks.”

“What? Another student? Why?” Sir Gilbert’s wrinkled face puckered like he sucked on a lemon rind. “You’ve already signed on two additional students from other Houses onto this moon’s mission, now you’re bringing a third? Who is it?” 

“Sylvain Gautier,” Byleth said. She waved for the garrison to resume their march and started to lead them. “And it doesn’t matter why he’s coming. He’s my responsibility, not yours.”

Sir Gilbert snorted. “You’re really as rigid as they say. Fine. I’ll allow it… but I’ll remind you, Seteth ordered a full report on this moon’s mission. Expect to see this unauthorized enlistment pencilled in.”

“I’m counting on it,” Byleth said indifferently. 

Byleth was being evaluated? Edelgard narrowed her eyes at Sir Gilbert. Why would the Church of Seiros order an audit against her professor? As far as she knew, Byleth was favored by the archbishop. It occurred to Edelgard that Byleth did not have as many allies as she thought. She tried to list off the potential friends her teacher made since accepting a position at the Academy, to her dismay, she realized she could not think of one. Byleth seemed to keep a professional distance with all of them. The one night she found her out with the Knights of Seiros, she almost got a knife buried in her skull. 

Ahead, the braying of a mule sounded, followed by a musical plucking of chords. A raggedy cart groaned as it was steered by a young woman with strawberry-colored hair that was tied back in a ponytail. Even at a distance, her smile was evident, glowing beneath the oil lamp latched onto the pole clinging to the driver seat. Mud curled up beneath the wooden wheels, wailing as the mule trudged on. Beside the wagon, a corpulent man with a shiny bald head strummed his lute with a whimsical expression. His music and words carried across the trail. 

_ There’s fire climbing high into the black sky.  _

_ Watch the holy men all die. _

_ Can you hear the Goddess cry? _

_ Is there light at all, now tell me, _

_ Is there light at all? _

Sir Gilbert’s face twisted with disgust. “What’s this then?” 

The bard continued. 

_ See the Houses fall.  _

_ The Church stays standing tall.  _

_ Is there light at all, please tell me, _

_ Is there light at all? _

“Sir Gilbert, don’t,” Byleth warned. 

Sir Gilbert didn’t listen. He marched forward, abandoning the front of the vanguard. The pale sunlight glinted against his armor menacingly as thunder rolled in the distance. 

The bard played on, not noticing the encroaching knight. 

_ There’s nowhere left to fly.  _

_ She tells me I shouldn’t even try. _

_ Is there light at all, I ask her,  _

_ Is there light at all? _

_ The Crests will save us all, she answers,  _

_ The Crests will save us all. _

The bard’s final chord was off-key as Sir Gilbert pointed the head of his lance at his barrel of a belly. Red-faced, the bard chuckled. “Oh, my, my, my… Did my song strike a nerve?” 

Byleth and Edelgard exchanged a glance. Nodding to one another with understanding, Byleth raised her hand to halt the troops once more. Together, they ran after the incensed knight. Edelgard wondered if Sir Gilbert would gut the man then and there, leaving his entrails to join the murk of the puddles.

“Put down your weapon, Sir Gilbert,” Byleth commanded. Her eyes bore into the man’s armor with enough heat in her glare to melt it. “It was just a song.” 

“A song that squanders the honor of the Church and Archbishop,” Sir Gilbert said icily. “I could have him burned for this heresy.”

“Oh, please don’t, Sir! I don’t know if I could carry on without his beautiful voice.” The muleskinner driving the cart looked distressed, but Edelgard noticed one of her hands flutter from the reins to rest at the pommel of the sword on her hip.  _ This could get messy,  _ Edelgard realized. 

Now that they were closer, Edelgard got a good look at the bard. Whatever color his tunic used to be was lost in the dark brown stains that dirtied it. His stomach, likely swollen by heavy alcohol consumption, hung over his rope of a belt like an apron, hiding his hips. His face, redder than his travelling companion’s hair, was covered in liver spots that looked like oil stains against his skin. There was not a hair on his head, so when the sunlight hit his crown just right, it gleamed. He looked and smelled like a pigsty, but his voice was as smooth and sweet as honey. Sidestepping, he brought the meat of his thumb against the tip of Sir Gilbert’s lance, pushing it away. There was not a wink of fear in his green eyes. 

“The hawk is always hungry. An empty stomach has no ear,” he said with a knowing smile.

Sir Gilbert grimaced. “I have no patience for riddles. State your name, so I may take you into custody properly.” 

Byleth frowned, moving to stand before the barefoot bard. “I won’t allow it. Our quarrel is not with him. The real enemy remains ahead.” 

“Once again, you fail to understand the duties of the Church,” Sir Gilbert muttered. 

“My duty is to my students first,” Byleth said. She did not budge, even as Sir Gilbert rose his lance once more. This time, it was pointed at Byleth. Her voice was cool and calm nonetheless. “I will not allow them to see you harm or arrest an unarmed man because of a song.” 

“Ah... Still waters run deep.” The barefoot bard smiled up at Byleth. “I will remember you.” 

Edelgard stood beside Byleth, glaring at Sir Gilbert. “Please, Sir, we cannot waste daylight more than we already have.” 

Sir Gilbert relented with a scowl. “This will not bode well for you, Professor, mark my words.” 

Edelgard shivered at the menace in his words. As Sir Gilbert returned to the vanguard, Edelgard turned to the barefoot bard and red-headed muleskinner. “I apologize about this. We didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” She offered a smile. “I enjoyed the song.” 

The bard’s eyes widened with surprise. “Did you, now?” He gave a bow, tittering with laughter. “My Lady is as brave as she is beautiful. If you’re not careful, you could find yourself at the end of the Church’s justice just like I.”

_ I plan on it. _ Edelgard only smiled wider at his remark, returning his bow cordially. “We need music now more than ever. I hope you continue to share your beautiful songs.” 

“I shall, thanks to you two.” The bard struck a chord. “Perhaps this was a fated encounter? I have a feeling we will see one another again.”

“What is your name?” Edelgard asked. 

“I’ve had many names,” the bard said. He gestured to the muleskinner. “My companion calls me Barefoot.” 

“And Barefoot calls me Anna.” She winked at them. “I am in your debt, it seems. If I had lost my songbird, my life would be frightfully dull.” She tapped her chin, smiling slyly. Edelgard was reminded of a vixen when she looked at her. “Maybe…” 

While Anna rummaged beneath the tarp draped across her wagon, Edelgard noticed Byleth’s eyes were downcast. She longed to dive in the depths of her eyes and discover what she was thinking, what she was feeling. The bard said, “still waters run deep,” what did that mean? What did that have to do with Byleth? 

“Where is it you are headed?” Barefoot asked as he tuned his lute. He glanced at the echelon of soldiers still halted on the mainroad. “A frightful company you keep. Could you be headed for the Western Church?”

“No. We’re trying to find a thief named Miklan,” Byleth answered. “Rumors place him at Conand Tower.”

“There is more truth to rumors than one would think,” Barefoot murmured. “Conand Tower, better known to the smallfolk as the Tower of Black Winds. Yes, he’s there.” He started humming, strumming his lute forlornly. “The beast bellows bouts of black wind… Forsaking all those that have sinned...” 

“So Miklan is there, truly?” Edelgard pressed. 

“Aye, and Goddess, has he made a mess of that place… I would entreat you not to venture there, for I believe life is sweeter with ladies like you in it.”

“We must go there. The Church commands so,” Byleth said. 

“So it does…” Barefoot sighed.

“Aha!” Anna exclaimed. From her stowage, she retrieved a strange wooden figurine tied to a string. She kissed it and handed it over to Byleth. “I hope this proves to be of use to you. It’s said to bring good luck to all those that wear it.” 

Byleth examined the necklace, eyes widening. “What is this?”

“It’s called a Goddess Icon. Wandering merchants like I always keep at least one on our person, so She may keep us safe during our travels.” Anna giggled. “Then again, I suppose today,  _ you _ were our Goddess.”

“This is the Goddess?” Byleth asked, sounding strangely demanding. The little figure on the necklace had flowing hair down to her ankles adorned with several bands and beads, a childlike face, and narrow eyes. 

Anna regarded her with a quirked brow. “Well… Yeah.” 

Byleth handed off the Goddess Icon to Edelgard. “I have all the luck I can manage,” she said flatly. “You helped them just as much as I did.” 

Edelgard frowned. “But--” 

“Just take it.” Byleth dropped the necklace into her hands. “I insist.”

Edelgard regarded the Goddess Icon curiously. She could not recall the last time she read through holy scripture and saw the face of Sothis. She looked rather young for a progenitor god. Though she doubted the integrity of the charm, she placed it around her neck. The Goddess was never there for her before, why would a chunk of wood make any difference?

“Thank you,” Edelgard murmured, smiling. 

Anna winked. “It’s a token of my gratitude, nothing more. Don’t expect this much of a discount next time we meet!”

“Where will you go now?” Edelgard asked.

“To Garreg Mach,” Anna replied, smirking. “Their knight may have tried to skewer my songbird, but it’s the safest place to be right now. We don’t have much choice.” 

“Until we meet again, ladies.” Barefoot glanced between them and a knowing smile warmed his face. He played a note and sang, “And her eyes say, save me and I will save you.”

“What?” Edelgard frowned. 

Anna and Barefoot shared a bout of laughter and carried on down the road. Edelgard watched them go. Byleth watched Edelgard. The troops shuffled to the side as the merchant and her songbird rolled by. It was not long before they were out of sight, with only the cart’s squeaking wheels singing in their memory. Edelgard brought the Goddess Icon to her face, frowning as she gazed at it. 

“Do you believe in luck, my teacher?” Edelgard asked.

Byleth was quiet for a while as they walked back together to join the front. Then she said, “Yes.” 

“I’m surprised to hear you say that.” Luck seemed like a concept too fickle and intangible for someone as serious as Byleth to believe in. 

As the echo of the marching troops engulfed them, Byleth said, “My life so far has been full of meaningful coincidences. If I had to believe in anything, it would be luck.” 

“Meaningful coincidences?” Edelgard echoed, smiling. “Like what?” 

“Like meeting you.” 

Edelgard blushed and went quiet. Ahead, she could see columns of smoke rising from the west. She remembered the song:  _ There’s fire climbing high into the black sky. Watch the holy men all die.  _ She was a fool to ever worry that her loose ends were being discovered in the Western Church. Sir Gilbert barely gave Barefoot a chance to explain himself before he nearly disemboweled him in the road. With knights like that invoking divine punishment, the truth would burn with the men. She was safe. But at what cost?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to pull this from the main chapter that contains the fight with Miklan. It deserved to be a standalone, but it's shorter than most. I hope you enjoyed.


	18. The Hawk is Hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles finally make it to Conand Tower and face off against Miklan. Their latest adversary proves to be the strongest they've faced yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING!**  
>  This chapter contains scenes of graphic violence, gore, body horror, vomiting, and strong language. If you are sensitive to content of this nature, please skip this chapter.

The air soured as the Black Eagles ventured deeper into the Kingdom, encroaching on the territory of House Gautier. Waiting ahead to greet them were the charred bones of what was once a village. Edelgard’s eyes widened in horror. Smoke rose from the remains, swirling into the blackened sky. If the clouds got any darker, it would look like a starless night had fallen. The stench of burnt flesh and wood filled the ashen air, making Edelgard’s skin crawl. Silence became a living thing, eerie and heavy among the soldiers. Mounds of ash gathered like hills of snow, muffling the sound of their footsteps. 

“We’re too late,” Byleth muttered. There was no emotion in her face, but her voice was strained. 

It was not until they reached the scorched heart of the village that they began to find the bodies. Hundreds of them. They littered the landscape, faces blackened by fire and corruption. Some still had their jaws held wide in cries of pain, but their gums were burned black and only teeth remained. Carrion crows laughed excitedly as they hopped from corpse to corpse, feasting on the flesh of the forgotten. Most of the bodies were unrecognizable, but when Edelgard crossed some that were smaller than others, she felt her heart shrink.

“This is horrible,” Edelgard whispered. 

“This is Miklan.” It was Sylvain that spoke. He rode behind the front row among the rest of the Black Eagles students with a dark expression on his face. 

Ruby red sunlight gleamed against the armor of the headless soldiers that were strewn in the road ahead. Unlike the rest of the bodies, they were not blacked by ash and fire. Their bodies were left to bloat in their armor, feeding the maggots that burrowed in their gray skin. Dried blood as black as the sky flooded the road in rivulets of foul-smelling ink. 

On their chest plates, the sigil of a red hawk glinted. Sir Gilbert pointed to the hawk with the tip of his lance. “The sigil of House Gautier. It appears Lord Margrave’s men were not enough to stop Miklan.”

“Miklan must be stronger than the average thief to be able to overcome them,” Edelgard observed. 

“And twice as brutal,” Sylvain added. 

“I pray he finds peace,” Mercedes said. 

“This place is scary… I don’t want to be here!” Bernadetta wailed.

“None of these soldiers have their weapons.” Byleth broke from the front to examine the fallen men closer. She seemed to be the only one left unaffected by the carnage and destruction. Her expression did not falter, not even when maggots scattered as she turned a body over. “Which means they’re in the hands of the thieves. We will be fighting more than men with crude axes or bows.”

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” Sir Gilbert said, gesturing to the tall black tower standing sentinel in the field ahead. “That’s Conand Tower, where Miklan waits.”

Leaving the village, or what used to be the village, they approached the tower with grim expressions. Flanking either side of the narrowing road that slithered out of the ashes was the cause for the sourness in the air, which had festered into something more putrid. Mounted on pikes that reached for the heavens, the heads of House Gautier’s soldiers gaped at them. Their half-helms, embellished with hawk wings on either side, only hid some of the gore. One of the helmets was bashed in so harshly that dribbles brain holding fragments of skull curtained the head’s eye. Another’s jaw had fallen to rot, holding on by a stringy sinew that a crow plucked at like a harpstring. Most of the heads already lost their eyes to hungry black beaks. The eyes that remained, however, stared ahead, frozen in horror. 

Edelgard heard one of the students start to cry at the hideous sight, but she was not sure which one. Someone else vomited, either due to the smell or the sight, probably both. Despite the horrors she endured in her past, Edelgard felt her steeled nerves rust. 

Thunder rolled in the black sky above, sending flocks of crows flying, crying. The sunlight that did manage to bleed through the darkness was as red as the blood that dripped from the severed heads. Sunset had arrived. Soon, night would reign. 

“Where are the thieves?” Edelgard asked. 

The plumegrass that surrounded them tickled the fetid air as the wind rolled by. No man nor beast stood between the wagging fronds. The soil drank too much blood and was rendered barren by cinders. Only ghosts remained. Edelgard thought she heard the laughter of children carried by the wind, but it was only the wail of a loose-hanging window on the tower. If there was a realm that existed between the living and the dead, this would be it. 

“They must have spotted us and sought shelter within,” Byleth said. 

“Are we going in?” The idea of entering the ominous tower made Edelgard uneasy. She felt like she was being watched. 

“We must,” Sir Gilbert said. “If there’s a chance Miklan resides in there, we are going in. We’re not leaving until we’ve exhausted every possible hiding place. That man  _ will _ be brought to justice.”

By the time they reached the entrance to the tower, rain started to fall. It felt like ice as it splashed into Edelgard’s skin. Now that she stood in the shadow of Miklan’s hideout, she realized how large it was. This was more than a mere watchtower. Thick masonry piled high with stones as black as pitch. Windows, cracked by time and use, glared with the red sunlight, making it seem like the tower held a fire within. 

“What was the purpose of this tower, Sylvain?” Byleth asked.

“Conand Tower began as a sentry post, but as House Gautier grew in strength and wealth, it was expanded to hold weapons and house the soldiers stationed here.” Sylvain glared up at the tower. He had a whiteknuckled grip on his lance. “It was meant to protect the people, but now it just houses the lowlifes that harmed them.”

Thunder boomed in the distance, bellowing with a promise of rain. 

“I am not keen on fighting in a building,” Byleth said. “It’s too easy to get trapped or ambushed.”

“In the golden era, knights would storm castles far larger than this in the name of King and Country without a second thought,” Sir Gilbert said. He pushed passed Byleth, shoving the heavy doors open with a grunt. 

“I’m not a knight,” Byleth muttered.

Edelgard stood beside Byleth, seeing the unease in her eyes. She placed a hand on her shoulder. “My teacher, you’ve trained us well. We can handle this.”

Byleth nodded. Side-by-side, they entered the tower. A massive staircase greeted them, spiralling up to the roof, where it vanished into a black abyss too far for the eye to see. Lining the walls were doors leading to other rooms, but most of them were boarded up or barricaded by debris in the form of broken crates and discarded, useless weapons. 

From the rafters, chains dangled, and swaying from the fetters were the rest of House Gautier’s soldiers. Some were chained by their feet, left to bleed out from the scarlet smiles on their neck like slaughtered livestock. Others were suspended by their wrists while their entrails dangled from their gored bellies in drapes of green and pink. Flesh peeled back from their swollen limbs as decomposition settled in and ate down to the bone. Some chains only held limbs that waved at them as they stared. The limbless bodies that fell to the weight of rigor mortis littered the stairs all the way up.

The horses screamed at the door, bucking and kicking. 

“Professor! The horses, they--they won’t come inside.” Ferdinand struggled with his chestnut courser. Sweat beaded his brow. 

Sylvain already dismounted his. “We just have to leave them,” he said.

“He’s right,” Byleth said. “Tie them up and leave them.”

“I will be returning.” Petra pressed her head to her pegasus’s, smiling sadly as she left her winged steed at the door with the rest of the horses.

Horseless, Ferdinand, Sylvain, and Petra joined the rest of the Black Eagles. Byleth had them gather at the foot of the stairs. Her expression was colder than normal. “We may not have time to organize a plan of attack once we meet Miklan. So, we’re doing it now.” She nodded to Edelgard. “Edelgard and I will lead our own divisions separately. Caspar, Lindhardt, Ferdinand, Dorothea, and Bernadetta will come with me and my mercenaries. Sylvain, Mercedes, Petra, Lysithea, and Hubert will go with Edelgard and her mercenaries. Understood?”

The Black Eagles nodded in unison. 

Byleth ascended the stairs first. The atmosphere grew heavier as she went up the steps, leaving Edelgard. There was something strange in the air. It moved like a shadow, casting darkness across the faces of the students. Ferdinand had not stopped sweating since he entered the tower despite the draft from the outside. Dorothea hugged Petra tight before leaving her with Edelgard and hurrying up the steps with Byleth. Bernadetta hesitated at the first step, then she turned abruptly and crashed into Edelgard, hugging her. 

“Be safe,” she whispered shakily. 

Edelgard smiled sadly and hugged her back. “You’ll do well. I’m counting on you.”

As Byleth’s division marched up the steps, whispering their battle plans, Sir Gilbert and his soldiers were already several steps ahead of them. Edelgard and her classmates would be last to make the climb. She glanced at them, nodding with determination. “These bodies are meant to scare us. Miklan is still just a person like all the other foes we’ve faced.” 

“A person with a Relic,” Hubert pointed out stormily. 

“She’s right. He’s just a dirty thief.” Sylvain’s frown twisted with disgust. “I’m sorry you have to fight this fight. It should be my House that’s handling this.”

“They tried,” Hubert said wryly. He pointed up to the rafters. “It wasn’t enough.” 

Edelgard glared at Hubert. “This is our fight too. We will win together.”

“I’m n-not scared,” Lysithea insisted, though her eyes were wide as she watched the hanging bodies. “I can take on anything! Let’s do this.”

“Little lass,” Redbeard broke from the crowd of Adorers, smiling at Lysithea. He looked very much like an Imperial soldier instead of the rag-tag mercenary from the Battalion Guild. His armor glinted with crimson on his shoulders; the sigil of a double-headed golden eagle rested on his chest plate. “Aren’t you a wee bit young for such a fight? Perhaps you should stay with the horses?”

“It doesn’t matter how old I am!” Lysithea protested. “I’m strong. I can do this.”

Edelgard stood beside Lysithea. “She’s right. I don’t think I’ve known a harder worker. She is more than capable of fighting by our side.”

Redbeard relented with a shrug. “If you insist.”

They started up the steps. Candlelight flickered from sconces that lined the walls of the spiralling staircase, glowing on each of their faces as they walked by. Edelgard tried to ignore the squeak and pitter-patter of rats that ran along the rafters. A cold sweat slickened her brow. The stairs seemed to go on forever. A flash of lightning lit the highest reaches of the tower, unveiling more stairs to come. Edelgard’s legs were on fire by the time she reached the last step. It ended before massive double-doors that led to the last room. Byleth and Sir Gilbert were waiting for her there with their divisions.

It was Sir Gilbert that pushed open the door, and its groan echoed the boom of thunder from the outside. 

Waiting for them was the largest band of thieves Edelgard ever witnessed. They wore mismatched plates of armor, likely melted down from the weapons and metal they looted from the town and refurbished. Their eyes glowed with hunger and fear and rage, staring into their pursuers with malice. At the furthest end of the room, a man with fiery hair and a scarred face sat on a makeshift throne of barrels and crates with his legs thrown casually over the side. He used a dirty oil rag to polish a lance as white as ivory. The glint of a Crest Stone shone at the base of the head. 

“The Lance of Ruin,” Edelgard murmured. 

The wielder of the Relic did not acknowledge them at first and continued to polish his weapon. There was something in her amber eyes that put Edelgard on edge. Once the lance gleamed to his liking, he stood. He looked like the ghost of Sylvain, if Sylvain lived a long life of cruelty. His face was twisted by the scar that cut across it; a chunk of his nose was missing. The smile that cracked his lips was as cruel and hideous as his face. His eyelids were peeled back just a little too far, exposing the whites to the point Edelgard wondered if the man could even blink. 

“Miklan,” Sylvain growled. 

“What’s this?” Miklan sneered. “The prodigal son has returned?” He jumped down from his throne of debris, landing with a chuckle among his thieves. “Are you done cracking skulls and fucking whores in the name of House Gautier?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Sylvain said gratingly. 

Miklan grimaced. “I don’t do anything in the name of House Gautier. Everything I do, I do for me. The man you call Father made sure of that.” 

“So you lay waste to a village of civilians? Murder women and children? Disgrace the soldiers sworn to defend them?” Sylvain demanded. The rage in his eyes rivalled that of his brother’s. 

“I did them a favor and put them out of their misery. There’s no mercy in this shit-heap of a world for the Crest-less,” he spat. 

Sir Gilbert stepped forward. “ By order of the Central Church of Seiros, I command you to lay down your weapons and surrender.” He glared at Miklan. “That Heroes’ Relic you’ve stolen may be an heirloom of Gautier, but it is also a holy artifact of the Church. Should you refuse to surrender, we have no choice but to take it back by force.”

Miklan’s cackle echoed off the stone walls. Thunder boomed as he pointed the Lance of Ruin at Sir Gilbert. “You’re nothing but a senile old fool if you think I’ll just hand it back to you. Those that aren’t lucky enough to be born with power must seize it for themselves. The power  _ belongs _ to the powerless; and when the powerless become powerful, woe to those that seek to take it from them.” 

Edelgard recalled the bard’s words,  _ The hawk is hungry. An empty stomach has no ear. _

“So be it.” Sir Gilbert nodded to his knights. In response, they unsheathed their swords and readied their lances.

“It’s a fight, then,” Byleth murmured. “Ready your weapons!” 

Byleth’s division obeyed her command. 

“This is it,” Edelgard hissed. “Prepare yourselves.” 

Edelgard’s division followed her lead. The hiss of swords being drawn and the clangor of armor began the battle cry. The thunder was the war drum. Lightning flashed from the outside to cast its white hot light on the thieves and soldiers.

“Kill them all!” Miklan shouted. 

The battle broke in a flash of lightning. Chaos erupted and consumed in a storm far greater than the one raging outside the tower. The clash of swords crashed with the clamor of lightning. Screams and howls and cries filled the air, roaring with the wind that buffeted the bricks. Thunder boomed with the blasts of magic, bursting in the air to fill it with smoke.

A thief wielding a sword came for Edelgard first. His eyes were wide as moons and flashed with lightning as he sabred her shoulder. Her armor took the brunt of the blow, and she retaliated. With a swing of her axe, she crushed his breastplate. His shout echoed the rolling thunder. Every rib in his body shattered against Edelgard’s axe. When he fell, all he could whisper from his bloody lips was, “Wait.” 

Edelgard had no time to mourn him. She ran ahead into the fray. Behind her she heard footsteps. Glancing back, she saw the familiar gleam of white hair. “Lysithea?” 

“I got your back!” Lysithea smiled. From her fingertips a purple cloud emerged. An odd trilling noise emanated from it like a swarm of locusts. “Ha!” 

The cloud carried forward, engulfing an axe-wielding woman with disheveled brown hair. She screamed as the trilling noise crescendoed. The silhouettes of thousands of insects infested every orifice of her face, strangling her. As the swarming cloud faded, Edelgard launched her Fire to finish the thief and reduce her to a pile of burning flesh.

Lysithea ran to Edelgard’s side, panting softly. “See? Told you I was strong.” 

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” Edelgard said.

“Watch it!” Hubert dove to Lysithea’s side, sending Miasma flying at a pair of charging thieves. While one took the blow, choking in the cloud of darkness, the other rolled to the side and jumped, bringing his blade into Hubert. 

“No!” Edelgard shouted. 

Hubert’s blood soaked the steel, dripping. His face contorted with pain as he gagged from the pressure of metal burying into his flesh. Rage filled Edelgard as she brought the axe down on the thief’s arm, severing it. He howled as his dismembered hand fell uselessly from the hilt to the floor. Edelgard cleaved again, splitting his jaw. It rained from his face in a waterfall of teeth and blood. 

“Hubert,” Edelgard turned to her vassal. He was kneeling behind her with a sword in his belly, gasping. 

Lysithea dropped to her knees. “I’ll make this quick,” she murmured. In one swift movement, she pulled the sword from Hubert, sending it clattering to his feet, and brought a hand glowing white to his gored stomach. The light flickered like the lightning flashing in the windows. 

Hubert sighed, wincing, as his wound closed. “I suppose I do have much to learn,” he relented. 

Lysithea smirked. “You won’t learn if you’re dead.” 

Edelgard was able to breathe a sigh of relief, but as she surveyed the chaos around them, she realized they were not the only ones dancing with death. Petra parried her sword with an axe-user, only to get an arrow buried into her shoulder. If not for Sylvain’s swift stab of his lance, the bowman would have shot it through her head. Mercedes stayed between them, blood dripping from a wound on her crown. 

She tried to find Byleth in the chaos, but she was lost in the flood of steel and blood. 

“Lass!” It was Redbeard. He came to her with blood dripping from his helm into the red whiskers on his face, looking like he jeweled it with rubies. Under the crook of his arm, a dead mercenary weighed him down. Her head was nearly severed from her neck, holding on by only a few tendons. “Lass, they’re mighty strong. What must we do? This is not boding well for us.”

With a pounding heart, Edelgard watched as one of Byleth’s mercenary’s got impaled by a lance. The crazed thief that wielded it laughed as he swung her lifeless body off the weapon and into another mercenary, sending them both to the ground. A large brigand brought a hammer down on a squire’s head; even as he begged for his life and cried for his mother, he sent the insides of his skull to soak the stones. 

_ Byleth. I need Byleth. _ Edelgard looked around wildly, feeling panic settle in.  _ Byleth… what would she do? _

Screams filled the air as more men fell to metal. Thunder seemed to shake the very stones they stood on. 

“Lass!” Redbeard sounded far away. 

“Fall back and regroup,” Edelgard ordered. “Fall back and regroup!” 

Like the ebb of the tide, her division recoiled from the heart of the room, back towards the door. If they could just get a chance to heal and reposition themselves, Edelgard believed they could overcome their enemies.

“We can’t!” Mercedes cried. 

In horror, Edelgard saw more thieves flooding the room from their only escape, barricading it as they boxed them in. They flooded the room like fire, tearing at everyone they crossed, sending hot embers of blood into the air. 

She heard the echo of Sir Gilbert’s voice, “It’s an ambush!” 

“They will be killing us,” Petra said. The arrow from before remained wedged in her shoulder. Mercedes tended to it, one eye squeezed shut as blood trickled into it from her head.

Edelgard steeled her nerves and polished her bravery. “No. They will not.” She faced her division. “When in the face of death, we must remember to live. And to live is to conquer, to live is to fight!” 

Sylvain rose, nodding. “I didn’t come this far to give up now.”

Redbeard set down his fallen comrade. His fingers brushed against her bloodied jaw fleetingly. There was a fire in his eyes when he faced Edelgard. “By your command, lass.” 

“Mercedes, Lysithea, and Hubert keep to the rear. Petra, Sylvain, by my side.” Edelgard nodded to her mercenaries. “Redbeard, you’ll lead the disturbance. Make them rue the day they killed your friend.” 

“You don’t need to say it twice,” Redbeard brought his mace to rest on his shoulder, giving her a wink. “You heard the lass!” He cried out to the Adorers. “To live is to conquer! To live is to fight!” 

Their cries echoed through the room as they launched their attack. Edelgard, Sylvain, and Petra followed. For every thief the Adorers slaughtered, two more took his place, but the mercenaries persisted, crying out the names of their fallen comrades, and avenging their deaths with blood and damnation. 

Edelgard followed her mercenaries, bringing her axe down to break the skull of a thief burying her blade into the face of one of her men. Petra moved like a swift-running river, flooding the onslaught of thieves with the slices of her sword. Sylvain ran faster than any horse, striking down his opponent’s with the precision of a hunting hawk. 

Behind her, swarms and clouds of dark magic filled the air, keeping the rear and flanks protected. Lysithea and Hubert remained side-by-side as they conjured. Mercedes sent her healing magic to those that needed it.

The tides were turning. No longer did they ebb. They flowed.

One thief broke from the lines. Black hair sullied his face, hiding his eyes, but he ran with purpose. He brought the brunt of his sword down on Petra’s wrist, making her shout. Her blade went flying into the fray, and he was on top of her, bracing her arms above her head with the length of his weapon. “Lookit ya, lookit ya, pretty thing.” His tongue lolled out of his mouth like a hungry wolf. 

Hissing, Edelgard retrieved her bow from her back, readying her arrow. She was too far to lend her axe, and her magic was waning. She only had one shot.

Petra cried out, bringing her knee up to the man’s groin, making him grunt in pain. The adrenaline saved him from buckling to her strike, however. But not for long. Edelgard’s arrow whistled for his head, burying into his temple. Petra pushed him off, panting, wide-eyed. 

Edelgard ran to her as Petra stood again. “Are you okay?” she asked. 

Petra nodded wordlessly, taking her attacker’s sword for herself. “He had the madness in his eyes.”

“Not anymore.” Edelgard watched as black blood bubbled from the side of his head. “Come on.”

Regrouping with Sylvain, they charged forward, reinvigorated by the heat of battle. Edelgard felt it pulse in her veins like liquid fire. It fed her magic, her axe, her arrows, until she was drunk with it.

Just as there was a break in the lines, a crackle of red and black lightning stopped them. Edelgard had to jump to the side in order to avoid the slashing lancehead. Petra fell backward, gasping. Sylvain was the one that took the blow. His teeth were bared and clenched as he held his side, panting. When he lifted his hand, blood soaked his palm. 

“Sylvain!” Mercedes cried. She lifted her hand to heal him. 

Before the white magic could reach Sylvain, he lunged, bringing his lance to crash against the man that stabbed him: his brother. 

Miklan laughed, bringing the handle of the Lance of Ruin before him to take the blow. “I’ve always fantasized about this day,” he hissed, shoving him off. 

Edelgard moved to his aid but Sylvain glared at her over his shoulder. There was a gleam in his eyes she recognized, a will, a need. “Stop. Let me do this. It… has to be me.” 

Nodding, Edelgard stood by and watched, even as her heart longed to leap back into battle. All around them, the fighting quelled, subdued by the fated duel between the two brothers. The air was electrified by more than lightning. No one dared to breathe, no one dared to move. They could only watch as the two men circled one another. 

“You can’t possibly let this happen,” Sir Gilbert protested from the sidelines. His own lance was ready to break the duel. 

Byleth emerged. To Edelgard’s horror, she discovered that half her face was dripping with blood. It made her eyes burn brighter, but there was a deadness in her voice. “This is no longer our fight,” she rasped. “This is larger than us.”

“Give me the Relic, Miklan,” Sylvain said as they circled one another. There was sadness in his eyes even as he let his bravado remain strong. “Spare yourself from the taste of defeat.”

Miklan lunged for his brother, screaming. The Lance of Ruin pined for his throat, but Sylvain was ready, he rolled out of the way, grunting. The determination creasing his brow made him look more like a warrior than a student. Defeat meant death. Shouting, he stabbed his lance at Miklan, grating his shoulder with the edge of the head. 

Blood spattered from Miklan’s wound, making him hiss. He held his shoulder, glaring at his brother. “Life has always been kind to you… but I won’t be.” 

The Lance of Ruin wailed, hissing to life with a demonic aura. It crackled in a tempest of its own as Miklan brought the Relic over his head, stabbing it down onto Sylvain. With a shout, the lance buried into Sylvain’s flank, sending shadows and blood hissing from the wound. Miklan cackled, not knowing how poorly he aimed. 

Sylvain gritted his teeth, sending his own lance into Miklan’s stomach, puncturing him. Miklan cried out as his brother’s lance twisted inside of him. “You think… my life was easy?” Sylvain grunted, glaring. “You, Father, the damn Crest, you’ve all made it a living Hell!” 

Miklan shoved himself free of Sylvain’s lance, leaving a trail of blood for the stones to drink. He clutched his stomach, chuckling. When he raised his head again, Edelgard saw the whites of his eyes expose the tangle of angry red veins within. She remembered her battle with Kostas. Byleth’s words echoed in her head:  _ Never corner a man that’s got nothing to lose.  _

Cackling wildly, Miklan swung the Lance of Ruin at Sylvain, slashing his chest. With a hiss, Sylvain fell backwards, but his armor protected him from the force of the blow. Miklan brought the lance up again, summoning its inner strength. The wail of its aura screamed louder now, causing the windows to rattle. Before he could bring the lance down on his brother, Miklan fell to his knees. The Lance of Ruin trembled in Miklan’s grasp, still wailing as splinters of red lightning sparked off of it. 

Clutching his stomach, Miklan wailed like a dying animal. 

“Goddess, what is happening?” Mercedes whispered, voice trembling. 

Edelgard narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. 

Foam dribbled from Miklan’s mouth as he seized, crying out in garbled agony. His fingers curled into the wound in his stomach, tugging at the torn flesh. “Get it out of me! Make it stop!” he wailed. 

Sylvain was frozen as he watched his brother curl into a fetal position and then writhe back to his knees. Miklan pulled at his stomach, disemboweling himself with trembling hands. “It hurts! Get it out of me! It hurts!” 

“Sylvain!” Byleth shouted. “Get out of there!” 

Miklan lurched forward, vomiting what looked like water, then yellow bile, then blood. He wretched, falling sideways in the fluid he expelled from his body. He reached for Sylvain with a bloodied, shaking hand. “Brother! Help… help me!” 

Sylvain stared down at his fallen blood. Even with torment etching his handsome face, he found the strength to extend his hand. Before he could grab Miklan, his brother rolled, wailing. His muscles pulsated. Veins pumped and snaked beneath his skin, growing, growing, growing, until they burst. Skin yielded to sinew, sinew to muscle, but where there should have been bone, there were scales. 

A shadow emerged from the crowd as Byleth ran to Sylvain. By the time she reached him, Miklan’s skin stretched taut against the scales like rubber, only to rip and disintegrate into steam as a beast emerged from the shell of a man. Miklan’s lips pulled tight into an oblong grin that stretched to his ears, but when he sobbed only a growl emerged from rows of fangs. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and the whites burned red. From his head, horns sprouted and curled. It grew, free from its human coil, until it broke through the roof of the tower, sending rain and brick and wood to shower the people below. 

“Goddess, please, save us from this monster,” Mercedes prayed. 

Screams and cries filled the air once more, but they no longer rallied for blood, instead, they begged for life. The monster howled, causing the windows to break and shower the bloodied stones with glass. Black winds carrying rain and thunder stormed the tower from the outside, howling along with the beast within.

“Professor!” Edelgard cried out. 

Byleth and Sylvain hurried away from the monster’s tail as it whirred through the air, cutting through thieves and soldiers alike. Byleth joined them, releasing Sylvain into the healing hands of Mercedes. The blood that marred half her face had dried, but it did not hide the ferity in her gaze. 

Seeing her again, seeing her alive, ignited a spark in Edelgard that she could not ignore. Edelgard ran to her. The fear she felt poured over; she needed the comfort of Byleth’s touch. When Byleth noticed her, the dead look in her eyes faded, and they widened in surprise as Edelgard looped her arms up around her neck. She pressed her face into her breastplate, not caring how cold or hard it was against her face, or how it smelled of blood. Solacing her, Byleth wrapped her arms around her waist and held her close. Byleth’s bloody face rested against the top of Edelgard’s head.

“You led them well,” Byleth whispered. 

Edelgard gazed up at her, smiling. “I learned from the best.”

Their embrace was fleeting, for the beast reminded them of its presence with a bone-chilling roar. Rain pelted the floor, slickening the stones and glistening against the scales of the beast.

“We’re dead!” One thief ran for the door, only to run into the jaws of the monster. Its fangs tore into him, devouring his torso so that only his legs remained. 

Edelgard watched the beast once called Miklan succumb to his transformation. A man forsaken by his family and society was now forsaken by the Goddess herself. “What must we do?” she asked.

“We need to finish what we started,” Byleth rasped. In her hand, the Sword of the Creator glowed. 

Edelgard stood by her side. “Then we shall. Together.” 

The beast roared, slashing its talons into the Knights of Seiros. Sir Gilbert was among them, bringing his lance down on the paw of the beast. The rest of the Black Eagles were with him. Dorothea launched a blast of Thoron into the face of the beast, and it crackled like the lightning outside into its scales. Caspar swung his mace into its flank. The beast dove for Caspar, jaws agape, only for Ferdinand to tackle him out of the way so they both could roll to safety. Bernadetta sent arrow after arrow whistling into the creature’s hide. Even Lindhardt partook in the violence, letting his magic conjure grievously into the beast’s flesh.

For all their might, the beast did not seem to bleed. 

Byleth narrowed her eyes, as if struggling to hear something, then she said, “A barrier. It has a magic barrier.” 

“Then we need to overwhelm it with everything we got,” Edelgard said. 

The Adorers stood by, gaping in horror at the beast unveiled. Despite their heavy losses, many of her mercenaries remained. She went to Redbeard and asked, “Do you think you have enough men for a second charge?”

Redbeard gazed down at her, smiling ruefully. “We can manage, lass. It won’t be as effective as the last one, but we can manage.” 

Edelgard noticed some thieves remained, trembling in their boots as they witnessed what has become of their leader. Other thieves fled, running with no more than the clothes on their backs. The ones that remained, however, piqued Edelgard’s interest. With haste, she approached them. 

“If you have even a shred of honor left, you will fight with us,” she said, glaring at them. “Miklan was your leader. You owe it to him to see this to the end and put him out of his misery. Or will you run like the others with your tail between your legs?”

The thieves gawked at Edelgard and then at each other. One by one, their resolve returned. They gripped their axes, readied their swords and lances, and loaded with bows.  A young woman with hair black as pitch and olive-toned skin fearlessly met Edelgard’s eyes. Her eyes were as gold as the sun. She said, “The maiden with snow in her hair is right! We must finish this!”

Edelgard smiled. “Join my men.” She gestured to Redbeard. “Join my men and make your stand.” 

As the thieves stood alongside the mercenaries, Redbeard was bewildered. “Why did you invite them to join us?”

“Is this not what your Adorer would have done?” Edelgard asked. “You said so yourself, you would give thieves another opportunity.”

“Aye.” Redbeard smiled. “That I did, lass.” 

“In the end, we all bleed the same,” Edelgard echoed her professor’s words with an assured smile. 

Returning to Byleth’s side, she was shocked to see the beast still had not a scratch on its hide. Its jaws snapped for Sir Gilbert’s arm. When it clamped down, the knight’s face paled and he choked up a holler. He brought the head of his lance to wedge into the monster’s exposed black gums, but its fangs refused to set him free. 

“My mercenaries are ready,” Edelgard murmured. 

“As are mine.” Byleth nodded. “Shall we?” 

In unison, they shouted, “Attack!” 

The mercenaries cried as they charged for the beast. Their voices echoed throughout the tower, into the storming sky where chaos reigned. Rain pelted at them, washing their armor of blood so that it could glint in the white flashes of lightning from above. Sparks flew from metal as it collided with the beast’s hide, but soon enough, the flesh weakened and began to bleed. Pools of black blood gathered at its claws as men buried their weapons into its skin. Its bloodcurdling roar overpowered the rolls of thunder above. With its burning red eyes, it found the men that caused its pain and crushed its jaws into them. Limbs dangled from its fangs as it devoured the mercenaries, yet more remained, stabbing and slashing and scoring into it. 

Sir Gilbert, clutching his near-severed arm, noticed the onslaught. As rain poured down his bloodied face, he pointed his lance at the monster. “Knights of Seiros, Goddess be with you. Now, charge!” 

A flood of white armor joined the red and gray as the Church’s knights entered the fray. Edelgard wagered their cries could be heard from the Kingdom itself. Some men were crushed beneath the weight of the beast’s talons, while others were severed in two by its slashing tail. None of them retreated. They faced death with weapons in hand and fury in their eyes. They remembered to live. 

The beast wailed. Its movements slowed. No longer did it snap at the men that struck it. It seemed stunned by the influx of pain and bloodletting. 

“This is our chance,” Byleth said. She nodded to her students. “We must not give up. Now’s our time to fight!”

Hubert and Lysithea stood beside one another, sending their Miasma to swarm the beast. It roared in pain, causing more bricks to fall from the shattered roof above. Dorothea sent her Thoron once more. Bernadetta and Mercedes sent their arrows flying. The remaining Black Eagles charged with Byleth, entering the mess of blood and corpses and fighting men. Edelgard buried her axe into the beast’s flesh, nearly gagging as she smelled the reek of its black blood. 

Roaring, the beast reared on its hindlegs. Steam and black aura emanated from its skin. Its tongue snaked out of its mouth like a living thing, curling wildly as it cried. Edelgard took a moment to catch her breath as the monster recoiled from its attackers. “Is it dying?” she asked, breathless. 

Byleth’s eyes narrowed. “No… Look.” 

From the dark aura, its broken flesh sizzled and mended. It regenerated. Edelgard’s arms trembled at the thought of continuing their fight. Her muscles screamed like the terrified men around her. She knew she could muster the strength to carry on. All she needed was to tap into the power of the flames within. Her secret Crest waited in her blood, eager to be used.  _ No… I will not rely on that. I can’t.  _

“How can we fight this again?” Edelgard felt her voice tremble. 

“It’s weaker now. It won’t be as difficult as before,” Byleth assured her. 

“How do you know?” 

Byleth fixed her with a cold glare. “Just trust me.”

Before Edelgard could speak again, Byleth charged for the rejuvenated beast. The Sword of the Creator glowed in her hand like fire. She shouted, swinging it, and the blade rippled like a solar flare into the beast. It screeched as the burning sword tore through its scales. Byleth did not relent, she swung again. Rain dissolved against the heat of the blade. The sword ate at the flesh of the beast, drinking its black blood and burning it into nothing. By Byleth’s third strike, Edelgard noticed something was wrong. Her teacher’s shoulders seemed to sag. Between blows, she would clutch at her chest like it pained her. Her movements slowed. 

The beast hissed. From its jaws, dark matter glowed. It prepared a blast of its own miasma. Byleth braced herself, bringing the Sword of the Creator down to lean against it. She would not survive the attack head-on. It did not matter how her legs ached or how tired her body was, Edelgard ran to her. As the blast of dark matter unleashed from the monster’s fangs, Edelgard dove for Byleth, tackling her so they could roll out of the way of the attack. Booming, the beast’s attack struck the floor, sending stones and dust skyward. Edelgard brought Byleth’s head to her chest, hiding her from the falling debris. 

“My teacher,” Edelgard murmured. “Are you okay?” 

Byleth panted shakily. One eye was squeezed shut as she gazed up at her. She brought a trembling hand to Edelgard’s face, pulling her down so her forehead touched hers. “When you are strong, I am strong,” she said. 

Edelgard smiled, helping Byleth to her feet. She did not let go of her hand as they stood and watched the beast roar. The rest of the Black Eagles resumed the fight alongside the knights, thieves, and mercenaries. Edelgard ran to join them, hearing Byleth follow her not too far behind. With shaking hands, she summoned her black magic. It erupted from the ground in blasts of magma, creating a fissure at the beast’s feet. Byleth joined her, sending her Fire into the beast’s shoulder. 

It was Sylvain that made the final blow. His lance flew through the air like a javelin, piercing the beast’s chest. It wheezed upon impact, tearing its claws at the fresh wound in its chest as black blood rained down on the warring men below. The beast’s dying cries echoed through the tower, making it shiver. The sky mourned its death, crying in torrents of rain as it crumpled to the ground with a hiss. People scattered as they moved to avoid the fallen beast. When it crashed into the ground, blood and dust flew in its wake. 

Thunder grumbled as the beast’s lifeblood left its body. The angry glow in its red eyes dulled.

Silence settled between the men, only for it to break against the roar of their cheers. They hugged one another, shook hands, traded high-fives. Dorothea found Petra in the crowd, and they ran to one another; Petra scooped Dorothea up in her arms as they twirled. Caspar, Bernadetta, Lindhardt and Ferdinand locked arms around one another, hollering with victory. Even Hubert cracked a grin as Lysithea shook his hand. Mercedes placed an encouraging hand on Sylvain’s back as he glared down at the dead beast, and they shared a smile. Edelgard found herself cherishing this moment. Her mind could not help but wonder how many victories she would be able to share with her Black Eagles before their paths would divulge. She shrugged the thought off, deciding to embrace her happiness, however fleeting.

“We did it,” Edelgard whispered. 

“Did you ever have any doubts that we could?” Byleth asked. 

Edelgard smiled, glancing up at her teacher. “No. I feel like I can do anything with you by my side.”

Byleth nodded, expressionless, but Edelgard noticed the light in her eyes. They walked to rejoin the others and were greeted with the same cheer. Edelgard laughed as Redbeard scooped her up and nearly squeezed the life out of her with his bear hug. 

“You did it, lass! You did it!” he cheered. 

“No, we did it.” Edelgard beamed up at him.

“Aye… You’re--you’re right.” Redbeard sniffled.  _ “We _ did it.”

Edelgard tilted her head, giggling softly. “Are… you crying, Redbeard?” 

“Just wee bit, lass. Us Adorers are an emotional bunch, we are.” Redbeard rubbed tears and snot from his freckled, bloodied face as the rest of his mercenaries laughed and patted his back.

Edelgard watched as the soldiers and students and mercenaries cheered. Sylvain was not among them. Instead, he was standing before the dead beast with a frown. The monstrous corpse gave in to decay sooner than normal, already fading into festered flesh and bone. From the carcass, the Lance of Ruin gleamed, waiting to be held once more. 

“You fought bravely,” Edelgard said softly. 

“It wasn’t enough to change him, though. There was no saving him.” Sylvain retrieved the Relic, shaking the black blood from its ivory head. “This was all so pointless.”

“He was a bad man… but I like to think if he lived in a different time, with different values, he could have been great.”  _ The Crests will save us all, she said. The Crests will save us all.  _ Well, the Crests didn’t save him. Or the villagers. Or the Gautier soldiers. In the end, it was the people that put the madness to an end.

“You know…” Sylvain smirked bitterly. “I’ve always imagined this day and what it would feel like to finally make him pay for what he’d done, but… I never imagined what it would feel like when he was finally gone.” 

“What does it feel like?”

“It’s so fucked up, but…” Sylvain scratched the back of his head, laughing humorlessly. “I kind of feel sorry for him. Seeing him die like this… I thought I’d be happy to see him gone. I guess I do feel a little relieved, but, I don’t know why I feel sad too. In the end, he really was a monster.”

Edelgard placed her hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. “He was a monster, but you’re not. That’s why you feel the way you do.” She gazed into the bloody corpse, feeling her own kind of sadness. “It’s in our nature to want harm to come to those that have harmed us, but… We need to remember that in the end, we are stronger than them for enduring and overcoming the pain they put us through.” 

“Remember to live?” Sylvain smiled. 

“Yes, remember to live.” Edelgard smiled with him. 

“ By order of the Central Church of Seiros, I command you to lay down your weapons and surrender!” Sir Gilbert’s grating voice sounded above the cheers and laughter. His arm was swaddled by torn cloth and tended to by one of his priests, but he still kept his chin high and his lance pointed at the remaining thieves. “For your heresy, you shall face the wrath of Archbishop Rhea.” 

Edelgard glared at the knight as the thieves knelt before his weapon, arms in the air. She rushed to them, standing before them so that Sir Gilbert’s lance was pointed directly at her. She could not allow them to face the gallows, not when they chose to stay and fight alongside her men. “Does the Goddess believe in second chances?” she demanded

“What?” Sir Gilbert did not lower his weapon. His eyes were wide with shock.

“I said, does the Goddess believe in second chances?”

“Wha--well, yes, She does, but--” 

“Then She would permit me to make this offer.” 

Edelgard faced the thieves. They stood before her, heads bowed, their faces smeared with dirt and blood. Their eyes stared into nothing. She finally got to look at them, to  _ really _ look at them, and to her horror she realized they were all mostly her age, some were even younger. These hawks were not hungry, their bellies were full of defeat. These hawks were not even hawks, they were fledglings kicked out from their nests with nowhere else to go, just like Miklan was once. It was Miklan that taught them how to fly like hawks. 

Edelgard would teach them how to soar like eagles. 

“My name is Edelgard von Hresvelg, last surviving daughter of Emperor Ionius, the Ninth of his Name. I am heir to the Adrestian Empire. As heir, it is in my right to stand before you and make this offer: swear fealty to me, and I will not allow your lives to be lost today. Instead, you will live in servitude of the Empire, and I promise, you will not be cast aside. You will fight for me. You will fight to protect the innocent and vanquish evil. With your strength and loyalty, we can make the Empire a stronger and better place.”

The thieves stared at her, wide-eyed, as they measured their fates. The young woman with dark hair and golden eyes was the first to bend the knee. The others followed suit, young men and women alike knelt before her, accepting their second chance. Not one remained standing. Edelgard smiled. As long as she was alive and had the power to do so, she would not let anyone become victims of the system. She would give them a chance to reform the very society that tried to destroy them. Together, they would build a new future. 

“Y-you can’t do that!” Sir Gilbert protested. He marched to her side like an angered bull, pointing his silver lance at the thieves. “They’re criminals, and their fates belong to the Church of Seiros.” 

_ You mean their deaths. _ Edelgard met his gaze levelly, even as his jowls shivered with rage. Before she could speak, Byleth came to stand between them. “Lady Rhea ordered us to stop Miklan and regain the Relic. She never said anything about his followers,” Byleth said icily. 

“But justice--”

  
  


“Has already been served. If the Adrestian Empire chooses to offer clemency, that is in their right as a sovereign body.” Byleth’s voice was frigid enough to freeze off someone’s ear. 

“We aren’t even on Adrestian soil!” Sir Gilbert glared at Edelgard. “She has no power here.”

Byleth didn’t budge. Instead, she fully faced the enraged knight, shielding Edelgard from his beady eyes. “By that logic, the Church has no claim to their fates either. We are here for the Relic and for Miklan, nothing more.” Her unfeeling eyes raked over the kneeling thieves. “There’s been enough death here today. Why rally for more?” 

“Lady Rhea will hear about this,” Sir Gilbert vowed. 

Byleth was indifferent. “I hope she does.”

Sir Gilbert marched off to rejoin his knights, cursing and spitting. Edelgard watched him go, feeling her resolve take shape. 

“Why did you spare them?” Byleth asked quietly. 

“It’s like you once said, my teacher. True strength lies in mercy.”


	19. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles settled in camp after defeating Miklan at Conand Tower. Edelgard's worst fears are realized when a disturbing message reaches them from Garreg Mach.

Alone, Edelgard walked through the dark. She reached her hand out, but the blackness swallowed it. She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry to utter a single word. She ran in search of light, but it ever came. 

_ Where am I?  _

A hooded figure stood before her dressed in robes as black as ink. His gray face wrinkled into a smile. His eyes were bulging white eggs set in sunken sockets. As she stared at him, around her she heard slithering. Snakes. Thousands upon thousands of snakes slithered around her in the dark, hidden from her frightened lilac eyes. A cold sweat beaded her brow as she heard them hiss, heard them whisper. There were too many voices. The meaning of their words were lost in the cacophony. 

The gray-faced man opened his lips to speak, but his tongueless, toothless mouth only held hundreds of red eyes that blinked back at Edelgard. He coughed up the creatures infesting his throat. Rats. Hundreds of black rats with blood-red eyes poured from his lips, screaming and squeaking. Edelgard tried to scream, but her voice failed her. She tried to run, but her legs were frozen in place. The rats swarmed her, crawling up her legs, her body, her neck, and burrowed into her ears, her mouth. 

She heard laughter. 

“El?” 

She heard crying. 

“El!” 

She heard someone scream: 

“Byleth!” 

Edelgard burst from sleep. She felt her throat, pinched her ears, gulped for air. A cold sweat poured down from her forehead, dripping onto her hands. As she regained sense of her surroundings, she found herself sitting up in a red tent. Outside, she heard cawing crows and laughing men and the clatter of iron. Surrounding her were the rest of the females in the Black Eagles. Dorothea and Mercedes were still bundled under pelts, snoring softly. Bernadetta curled beside her, murmuring in her sleep. 

_ I’m safe, _ she realized. Bringing her fingertips to her lips, she recalled the details of her dream with gruesome clarity.  _ Was it I that called for Byleth? Or someone else? _

Edelgard felt someone staring at her. Turning, she saw Lysithea, still bundled up, gazing up at her with wide pink eyes. “So, you have them too?”

Edelgard rubbed her eyes. The feeling of rats crawling up her skin still haunted her. “Have what?” 

Lysithea sat up, frowning. “Bad dreams.”

“Everyone has bad dreams, Lysithea,” Edelgard murmured. She rubbed her temples, feeling the whispers still writhe inside of her ears. “I apologize if I woke you.”

Lysithea persisted. “But not everyone has bad dreams like us.” She paused, combing her fingers through her white hair as she watched Edelgard with narrowed eyes. “You know about me, don’t you?”

Edelgard returned Lysithea’s gaze levelly. She knew, of course she knew, of the trauma Lysithea endured. How could she not? Edelgard remembered spending her sleepless nights scoring through record after record, desperately trying to find a name, a face, a  _ someone _ that survived the same torture she did. In the end, she only found one, and it was the young girl laying beside her. Lysithea von Ordelia. Yet, even with this knowledge, she could not extend her hand. The intimacy of the pain they endured was too great. She refused to take away Lysithea’s opportunity to open up on her own. If Edelgard deserved to know, Lysithea would tell her. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Edelgard said tiredly.

“Yes you do. I’m not in the mood for these games.” Lysithea’s face scrunched up with frustration. “You know I have two Crests. You know what it’s done to my body… my life. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“I only know what you’ve told me.” Edelgard dropped her eyes, staring at her hands. She whispered, “It’s impossible to bear two Crests, Lysithea.”

“Fine. Keep up the act.” Huffing, Lysithea rolled over, laying down once more so that her back faced Edelgard. Edelgard watched her as she went quiet. The snow in her hair. The near-translucency of her skin. The beginning of a scar curling at the back of her neck. It was all there before her. Edelgard heard a voice whisper, crying, “El.” 

“Unless,” Edelgard began, placing her hand on the side of Lysithea’s head. “You’ve undergone a blood reconstruction surgery?”

Lysithea didn’t speak, but Edelgard could see her eyes were still open, staring ahead at nothing. 

“You lived through it. Through all the terror and agony, you remembered to live.” Edelgard stroked her fingers through Lysithea’s hair. A memory stirred within her, vague and cloudy, she remembered twining her fingers around her sister’s hair, braiding it. They were singing together. What song was it? “I look at you because I’m admiring you. Your strength.”

“I am more than what they made me to be,” Lysithea said softly.

“I don’t mean the strength of the power they’ve forced upon you. I mean  _ you, _ your spirit.” Edelgard tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She felt her heart wrench when she saw emotion glistening in Lysithea’s pink eyes. “You overcame all of that horror. You survived.”

“So did you,” Lysithea murmured.

Edelgard smiled sadly. “Yes. So did I,” she confessed quietly.

Slowly, with Edelgard stroking her hair, Lysithea returned to sleep. Her body rose and fell calmly as she surrendered to slumber. Edelgard felt an odd sense of emptiness when she looked down at her. Those that remembered to live also had to remember those that died.

Sighing, Edelgard rose from her bed of furs. The chill from the outside caused her to shiver as she slipped on her uniform over her smallclothes. The fabric was still wet from washing, but the sweet morning air rolling in from the entrance of the tent tempered the dampness. As she moved about the tent, the aches in her body roared to life. Yesterday’s battle sat heavy on her muscles, grating down to her bones. She did not even remember setting up camp last night, nor did she remember undressing or getting to sleep. It was all a blur devoured by fatigue and the fog of war. 

Pushing out of the tent, a fine mist kissed her face in greeting. The rain was so soft and pale it looked like powdered snow falling from the silver sky. A cool breeze promised the coming of autumn, and it whispered against Edelgard’s skin soothingly. She smiled. The storms of yesterday were just a bad memory now. A bonfire crackled between the tents, and sitting around it she found her Adorers, talking amongst themselves and swapping stories. They passed around a skin that smelled of cider. 

“Mornin’, lassie!” Redbeard greeted her jovially. His face was redder than his beard. Edelgard wondered if he even bothered sleeping last night. She had a feeling he just went straight to drinking 

Alexon tipped his hat to her wordlessly with a luring smirk. He was reclining a little too far back as he sat; a stiff wind would be more than enough to knock him over. The rest of the Adorers waved and greeted her, each more blistered than the last. Some still wore bloodied bandages and reeked of sweat and piss. 

“Good morning, Adorers,” Edelgard said, eyeing them critically. “I see the celebration has carried on through the night.”

“Aye! That it has.” Redbeard gave a long pull of the cider skin. “‘Twas the greatest battle we’ve ‘ad in many moons. To think our greatest gig would come from th’Church.” He chuckled heartily.

Edelgard frowned. “And it’ll be your last battle, I fear.” 

The Adorers sat upright, aghast as they caught the brunt of Edelgard’s sharp tongue. They exchanged confused glances, as if they all became as tongueless as Alexon. It was Redbeard that spoke up at last, “Lass, what d’ya mean? You no longer want us to fight with yous?”

“I gave you Imperial armor and the finest weapons the Empire has to offer. I pay you monthly for your services. Yet, you cannot even muster the decency to take a dip in the river?” Edelgard fumed, raking her eyes over the mercenaries mercilessly. “I understand wanting to celebrate a great victory. However, I cannot allow you to act so slovenly while you wear my colors. And I will not pay men that don’t know how to bathe.” 

Redbeard sat up, knocking over the men sitting beside him in his haste. “Apologies, lass, apologies. We--we got caught up in the festivities is all, I assure you.”

As their leader sobered, the rest of the Adorers followed, all murmuring their courtesies and apologies. Edelgard’s lips twitched. For all their drunkenness, they fought bravely against Miklan. For now, she needed them. Whether she would continue to need them depended on their conduct in the future. 

“Rinse yourselves off and sober up. It won’t be long before we return to the monastery, and I can’t have you stumbling the whole way there.” Edelgard locked Redbeard under her glare. “This is your only warning. I won’t be waking up to this again.”

Redbeard nodded, grabbing the men that had fallen over by their collars and shoving them off. “You heard the lass! Wash your asses!” He nodded once more to Edelgard. “Five thousand apologies. It won’t be happening again.”

As the mercenaries tumbled off into the woods, Edelgard could breathe again. She wondered if Byleth’s mercenaries acted the same way. She recalled the fierce glow in her teacher’s eyes whenever they stepped out of line and decided her mercenaries learned their lesson long ago. 

The camp was emptier and quieter once the Adorers left. Only the crackling of bonfires could be heard. Beside one, she found Petra. She was rotating a pair of fowls on a skewer, smiling pleasantly. The savory sweetness of roasted pheasant and hickory filled the smoke that wafted off the meat. Edelgard felt her stomach growl eagerly as she approached Petra. 

“Lady Edelard, good morning,” Petra greeted. Her wrists were wrapped in fresh cloth, hiding the wounds the thief with madness in his eyes gave her. 

“It smells wonderful,” Edelgard said with a smile. “Did you catch these yourself?” 

“Yes. I could not find sleep, so I hunted.” Petra rotated the pheasants. The flames danced in her ombre eyes. “Hunting brings me calmness.” 

“You seem to be doing well here.” Edelgard sat across from her on a log, watching the flames lick at the roasting meat. Grease popped and trickled down from the golden brown skin, soaking the burning wood. “Are you enjoying yourself at the Academy? You know if there’s ever anything you need, or if anything bothers you, you can come to me.” 

“Yes! Everyone is showing me great kindness.” Petra smiled fondly. “I have them to rely on if I have need, so do not spend worry on me.”

Edelgard shared her smile. “I know you do, but it is my job to watch out for you, after all.”

“I have learned we all watch out for each other's backs.” There was a determined glare in Petra’s eyes. “You have much on your shoulders, I can see. You will not be carrying what I can carry myself. My shoulders are strong too.”

“You’re right.” 

Edelgard felt sadness soak into her bones like the grease soaked into the wood, weighing her down. They really did all rely on one another. She witnessed it firsthand in the battle against Miklan. How much longer would they be fighting side-by-side? When Edelgard finally stepped into her true role as Emperor and pursued her ambition, would her Black Eagles fight alongside her? Or would she face them on the battlefield? 

Suddenly not hungry, Edelgard rose to her feet. “Have you seen Hubert?”

Petra pointed between the tents. “He stands watch with Sylvain.”

“Thank you.” 

Leaving Petra to her cooking, Edelgard moved between the tents. She heard soft murmurs and snores, but it was not until she crossed the largest of the tents that she heard yelling. Edelgard froze beside it, peering into the white tarps that constructed it. She saw two silhouettes, one standing gesturing angrily while the other sat before it, still as stone. She didn’t need to hear her voice or see her face to know it was Byleth that was receiving the tonguelashing. 

“--is absolutely appalling!” It was Sir Gilbert yelling. Edelgard stopped to listen. “Of course, I could never expect a woman raised outside of the Church to understand. You may wield a Relic, but you are a far cry from a Holy Knight! You’re just a professor.”

_ Holy Knight? Like Sir Catherine? _ Edelgard pressed her face against the side of the tent. 

“The way you refute Church orthodox will certainly be brought to the attention of Seteth! Letting that heathenous bard sing his blasphemy. Allowing your House Leader to take in thieves, _ thieves!  _ Now you’re coming into  _ my _ tent saying the Lance of Ruin belongs with that boy? You give these students far too much freedom. I don’t care  _ what _ that House Leader’s background is, sending her with her own unit into battle is unacceptable!” There was a smacking noise of paper hitting a wooden desk. “Once I hand this report into Seteth, I promise your days of teaching are over. It’s a miracle you’ve been allowed free reign for this long.”

“Is that all?” Byleth’s cold voice filtered through the tent, making Edelgard shiver. 

“Yes. We’re done. Do not go making that Sylvain boy promises. The Lance of Ruin does not belong to him,” Sir Gilbert muttered, panting. 

Edelgard hurried around the tent, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. She did not get far before she heard Byleth say, “Edelgard?” 

Turning, she saw Byleth standing beside the tent, arms crossed. Her brows were knitted together as deep thought plagued her features. The set of her jaw was more pronounced than usual. Her gaze held nothing but ice. “What are you doing here?” Byleth asked. 

“I… was looking for Hubert,” Edelgard said. 

Byleth approached her, frowning. “Did you hear all of that?” 

In the shadow of her frame, under the coldness of her gaze, Edelgard was captured. “Yes… I did. Why must they file a report against you?”

“Not everyone in the Church of Seiros is thrilled by my methods.” Byleth shrugged, nonchalant. “Being entrusted with a Heroes’ Relic only gave them more reason to scrutinize me.”

“But it was Archbishop Rhea that gave it to you in the first place.” Edelgard grimaced.

“She may have given me the power, but that doesn’t mean I deserve it.” Byleth let her hand rest on the pommel of her Relic. Her fingers clenched at its hilt. For a moment, Edelgard thought she would cast the blade aside. Instead, her hand fell and she said, “I’ve known nothing but how to wield a sword; wield a sword and survive, that’s all I knew, that’s all I needed. I never stopped and thought, ‘what next?’ I never thought I would want anything else.”

Byleth stepped closer to Edelgard. The shadow in her eyes made her shiver. A storm of anger conjured a tempest of torture within her gaze. “Then, I met you... I met the rest of the students. All of you have dreams and ambitions, you have people and ideas you’re willing to die for. For as long as I can remember, just surviving was enough. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t know how to live.”

“My teacher…” Edelgard didn’t know what to say. She could only stare up at Byleth, held hostage by the intensity of her gaze. There was no warmth there. 

“You and the students are showing me what that means.” Her voice was quiet but intense like the booms of distant thunder. “I have something new to fight for.” 

Byleth pushed past Edelgard, storming off into her tent. Edelgard watched her go, torn. Byleth may know of her ambitions, but she did not understand. She would never understand, not until she knew the truth. Edelgard wanted more than ever to reveal her inner desires. She would remove every rib in her chest and expose her heart to her. But what would Byleth do with the bones of what she believed? Would she hold them and gaze into her beating heart and know what it meant to follow her? Or would she use them to rip her heart out and let her bleed alone? 

Losing her sense of urgency, Edelgard walked to the edge of camp where Hubert and Sylvain stood guard. Hubert saw her first, frowning, and Edelgard knew her inner torment was exposed in her expression. She hid it with a smile by the time Sylvain turned around. 

“How’s watch, gentlemen?” Edelgard asked.

“Boring, just the way I like it.” Sylvain’s lopsided grin had returned. Edelgard wondered if she would ever see it again after yesterday’s battle, but it seemed Sylvain was as strong as ever. “And now that I have the pleasure of a beautiful lady’s company, it will be all the more delightful.”

Hubert bristled. “Her Highness’s company is not yours to keep.”

Chuckling, Sylvain ran his fingers through his red hair. “That’s a shame. I thought we could share.” 

Edelgard grabbed Hubert’s arm before he seethed. “Sylvain, if you’d be so kind, I need to borrow Hubert for just a moment.”

“Help yourself.” Sylvain shrugged, leaning on his lance. “He’s all yours.”

Pulling Hubert out of earshot, Edelgard breathed steadily. They stood between the supply tent and the weapons hold, where only the inanimate could be an audience to their discussion. Edelgard’s dream still lingered in the corners of her mind. Her skin crawled as she remembered the gray-faced man. It pushed her on the edge, where she teetered. 

“Lady Edelgard?” Hubert pressed. “What is it we need to discuss?”

“The thieves,” Edelgard said. “Where are they being kept?”

“Sir Gilbert put them in their own tent and assigned his knights to guard them around the clock,” Hubert explained.

“I will be writing to Commander Metodey when we return to Garreg Mach. I’ll instruct him to make room in the barracks for them and prepare for their training,” Edelgard said.

“And while we wait for Commander Metodey’s response?”

“I’ll ask Redbeard to look after them. The Adorers are known for taking in thieves and reforming them. I can trust him with that, at least for now.” 

“As you wish, My Lady.” Hubert bowed. He stared at her intently. “I have a feeling this is not the only reason you pulled me aside?” 

Edelgard sighed, crossing her arms. “It’s…  _ Them. _ I’ve yet to receive word on the Death Knight’s prescribed purpose. Have they whispered to you?”

Hubert’s expression mirrored her own, wrought with concern, even rage. “They have not, but that does not mean we can assume he’s not being put to use.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Edelgard worried her lip.

The whinny of a charging courser filled the air. Beyond camp, Edelgard saw a storm of dust clouding behind a mounted steed that was as white as snow. Beneath the saddle, its caparison flapped in the wind, bearing the Crest of Seiros. Its rider wore milky white armor that gleamed blindingly in the silver morning mist. Metal concealed the rider’s expression behind their helmet, but even through the steel, Edelgard could sense something was wrong. 

“Hail! What business have ye?” Sylvain called out from his post. He no longer leaned on his lance, but held it by his side defensively. 

The rider tugged on the reins of their courser. The stallion snorted, disturbing the mist, making it swirl around its flared nostrils. There was silence as cold and deep as death before the knight said, “I bring word for Sir Gilbert, Captain of the Knights of Seiros.” 

As the knight dismounted, Edelgard saw a rolled parchment in their hand. The seal was as silver as the falling rain. Edelgard hurried to the edge of camp to stand beside Sylvain. “What’s happening?” she demanded. 

“These words are meant for the eyes of Sir Gilbert,” the knight said. Upon recognizing Edelgard’s uniform, the knight lifted the front of their helmet in a salute, unveiling the face of a woman. “My Lady, it is of the utmost importance that I deliver this message with haste.” 

Hubert joined Edelgard, glaring at the knight with suspicion. “How did you find us?” 

Edelgard could see the fear in the knight’s eyes and the impatient twitch in her leathered skin. “I took the mainroad northward in search of your company. A travelling merchant pointed me this way.” She bowed once more. She sounded winded, as if she had run the distance between their camp and the monastery herself. “Please, take me to Sir Gilbert. Time is of the essence” 

“I’ll take you to him,” Edelgard said, watching her closely. 

“Thank you, Your Highness.” 

Leading the knight through camp, Edelgard noticed it had become more lively. More soldiers had risen to greet the sun. They sat around the bonfires, sharing hard cheeses and bread and dried apples, talking loudly and laughing. As Edelgard escorted the knight, they slowly fell to silence, sensing the urgency, the danger, that wafted off her pale armor. Edelgard had no time to stop and explain, even as she was hailed by curious bystanders. She needed to find Sir Gilbert. His tent was easy to spot. A white castle among little red huts. Forgetting her courtesies, she did not pause, she burst through the entrance, garnering more than an annoyed stare. 

“Where’s your military bearing?” Sir Gilbert scolded. He sat up from his desk, returning his quill to its ink pot. He hastily covered the parchment he wrote on with blank sheets, but Edelgard cared not for what he wrote. She already had an idea. “What’s the meaning of this, barging into my tent without announcing yourself?” 

“Sir, I beg your pardon, but we have a messenger from the monastery,” Edelgard said sternly.

Behind her, the knight removed her helmet and knelt. Auburn hair fell from her head in a tight braid. Her face seemed young, but moons of war and bloody conquest wrinkled it, and many sleepless nights leathered it. An old scar cut just beneath her eye, giving it a permanent squint. 

“Sir Gilbert, I bring word from the monastery. I rode for three days and two nights in search of your company. I apologize for the delay.” Raising her hand, she held out the rolled letter. She did not lift her head, instead she stared at the grassy floor, still panting softly. 

Sir Gilbert took the letter, breaking the seal. His eyes read over it and over it again. Each time his face twisted and contorted with a mixture of fear, rage, and disbelief. He clenched the letter in his fist, wrinkling it. “Damn it all!” He slammed the letter onto his desk, sending his quill and ink bottle over the edge. The grass turned black with ink. 

“Sir Gilbert?” Edelgard asked. 

“Fetch your professor,” he ordered. “We are to leave immediately for Garreg Mach.” 

“Immediately? But why?” Edelgard asked, bewildered. 

At first, Sir Gilbert did not look keen on telling Edelgard anything. His lips were stretched thin across his face, tightly holding the truth. Whatever look Edelgard held in her eyes must have convinced him that she deserved to know. 

“Garreg Mach has been infiltrated once again. Flayn has gone missing.” 


	20. The Abyss Stares Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After receiving news of Flayn's disappearance, the Black Eagles hastily return to Garreg Mach. Under the orders of Archbishop Rhea, they embark on a search effort in the monastery. Edelgard, however, has her own method of getting Flayn back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys, this is it! We're officially halfway through White Clouds. To celebrate this "mid-fic" milestone, four chapters will be published over the course of the weekend. This marks a huge turning point in Elysium as we get closer to the end.   
> For the readers that have followed the story this far, I thank you. Your comments/kudos/views are what motivate me to continue this behemoth of a longfic. I hope you continue to follow the story until the end, for our journey is just beginning.   
> To any new faces that just happened upon Elysium, welcome! Whether you choose to stay or go is entirely up to you, but if you do stay, I hope to give you something to look forward to during these crazy times.   
> Again, I can't thank you enough for joining me on Edelgard's journey. This weekend is dedicated to all my readers. Please take care of yourselves, look out for one another, and most importantly... Remember to live!

Through golden fields gilded by frost, they rode. The silver mist clashed with their armor beading it with diamonds that glistened beneath the pale sun. Air as sweet as honeysuckle and crisp as an apple’s skin filled their lungs. Their blood sung with the heat of their journey, pining for home. Horses whinnied and snorted, stirring birds from their nests; they took flight on swift wings, keeping pace with the charging company. The horizon welcomed the sun to sink into its waiting arms, burning rosy pink in anticipation. 

For all the beauty, not one soldier wore a smile. In their haste to return, they trampled the flowering crocuses and asters, crushing the lilac-colored petals into the mud. The further south they traveled, the more merchants and vagabonds they crossed; the weary travelers had to run from the mainroad in their haste to avoid the onslaught of troops and destriers. In their wake, they left upturned earth and puddles of murk for the people to stumble on. 

By the time they reached Garreg Mach Proper, they were greeted with a ghost town. Not a soul wandered the cobblestone streets. Doors and windows remained tightly shut. Only the wisps of smoke curling from the chimneys betrayed the life still living within the walls. Shouts and rattling metal echoed from the alleys as armored knights clamored at each residence. 

“By order of the Central Church of Seiros, we demand you open your doors!” 

Without allowing the people the chance to unlock their hinges, the knights burst in, welcomed by screams as the civilians were greeted with expressionless helmets. Crying babes and confused shouts filled the empty streets. The invaded homes all received the same explanation: 

“Our search is warranted by your magistrate, Archbishop Rhea. We ask for your complete cooperation.”

The sound of furniture turning over and cabinets being slammed followed. The people asked, what is it you are looking for? The people begged, please, stop, you’re frightening the children! They don’t understand!

“A prominent member of the Church is missing. Until they are found, we will search every residence.” 

Edelgard watched as the knights marched from house to house, feeling a dagger twisting into her stomach. This was not what she wanted. This was not what she expected. It was a brash, bold move that caused nothing but chaos. Chaos… it’s what  _ they _ fed on. Those Who Slither in the Dark would sooner marinate in pandemonium and feast on panic than do anything to curb it. It sickened her that she needed their influence and magic to realize her ambitions. She would not forget days like this. She would remember them fondly when it was  _ their  _ turn to face her wrath. 

The Main Gate’s portcullis was drawn to bar all from the sanctuary of the monastery. From the walls, several snipers stood guard, pointing their crossbows down at the front lines. It was not until they saw the banners of the Church of Seiros that they lowered their weapons. One raised his hand and shouted with a clenched fist. By his command, the gates opened. 

“Sir Gilbert!” The gatekeeper hurried to greet the captain. “Thank Sothis you’re here. None of the other captains have returned from their deployment to the Western Church. It’s a mess. We’ve nothing but a skeleton crew.” 

Sir Gilbert raised his hand for silence. “Where is Lady Rhea?” 

“She is secured in her personal quarters,” said the gatekeeper. “She asked me to send you her way upon your arrival. She demands that you bring Professor Byleth as well.” 

Edelgard stole a sideways glance at Byleth, seeing her unfazed by the events unfolding around her. She didn't even flinch when Sir Gilbert sucked his teeth and turned on her. “Well, you heard the soldier,” he said gruffly. “We must go to her.” 

Motionless as a statue, Byleth stared down Sir Gilbert with a frigid expression. Her eyes twinkled like the frost that gathered on the leaves of the trees around them. It was not until the silence became uncomfortable that Byleth nodded solemnly and relented, “Very well. Allow me a moment with my students before I depart?” 

“A moment and nothing more,” Sir Gilbert grumbled impatiently. 

Facing the Black Eagles, Byleth said, “Thank you for your hard work at Conand Tower. Fighting alongside all of you, I can see the improvements you’ve made. I am proud of each and every one of you. No matter what happens, I ask that you continue to rely on one another in the future.”

Without hesitation, Byleth joined Sir Gilbert, leaving the Black Eagles alone at the foot of the monastery. Edelgard watched her go, unable to shake the feeling that Byleth was saying goodbye. Perhaps she should have worried more about that report? She could not dwell on that for long, for Hubert was already by her side, gazing down at her meaningfully. 

“Please, return to your dorm rooms and refresh yourselves,” Edelgard ordered the Black Eagles. “If Professor is being summoned by the archbishop, there is a chance we will be involved in the effort to find Flayn. We need to be ready.”

As the Black Eagles dispersed, Edelgard and Hubert remained. It was quieter without the other students, more lonely. Edelgard refused to allow herself to wallow. There was work to be done. Rage boiled in her veins like fire. As she left the gates, she felt Hubert follow her with wordless understanding. 

“They were smart to wait for the monastery to be left vulnerable before they made a move like this,” Hubert murmured. 

They walked in the shadows of the steeples, cutting through like ravens on soft wings. 

“Smart as it may be, this is still a foolish maneuver,” Edelgard hissed. “It is too soon after our failure in the mausoleum to take such a risk. To be bold enough to abduct _ Flayn _ nonetheless; this desperation in their tactics does not settle well with me.” 

“I’m certain you’ll get the opportunity to voice your concern, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert reasoned. She knew he could sense her growing fury. 

“I did not nor would I ever consent to this!” Edelgard snapped. “And they know that. Why else would they wait for me to leave to do such a thing?”

They stood beneath the flaming beauty of a Judas-tree. The chill in the air already burned its leaves crimson, and they shivered in the cold wind that whispered through the monastery. Its skeletal shadow slithered around Edelgard’s neck. 

“What do you think they’re doing with her?” Hubert asked.

“What they do with all of them.” Edelgard gnashed her teeth together. “This is sloppy, even for them. It’s like they’re trying to test me.” 

“You’ve overcome more than just their tests, Your Highness,” Hubert muttered. “You mustn’t let them get to you. Whatever needs to be done, just let me know and I will do it.” 

“I know they’re here,” Edelgard whispered, not listening to Hubert. Her blood burned hot beneath her skin, deafening her. She granted them the Death Knight, and this was how they repaid her? Their actions would echo for moons to come. The monastery would never go unprotected again after this. The consequences would be momentous. “I will handle this myself, once I know their whereabouts.”

“You mean… But Your Highness, to walk these halls as the Flame Emperor--” 

“Is a risk I must take.” Edelgard’s resolve was as firm as the masonry that built the walls around them. “I’ll be in my quarters, should you need me.” 

The shadows grew as the sun ran for the horizon. The sky bled from pink to orange to red, painting over the silver clouds, staining them. Edelgard felt like she walked through another realm as her footsteps echoed down the empty halls. For once, she did not hear the echo of the singing choir or the toll of the cathedral bells. The monastery was swallowed by silence, sitting in its belly, where darkness could freely crawl in its empty corners. Reality slipped from her fingers as she found herself inside the dormitory, already on the second floor. She did not even remember walking this far. 

Pushing her door open, Edelgard breathed. A blacksmith beat her blazing nerves, shaping them into swords, sending sparks flying to charge her conviction. Steam warmed her insides as her steeled nerves dipped into the cool water of composure. The question was not  _ if _ she could do this, but  _ when. _

Edelgard reached with steady hands for a small chest that rested on the shelf beneath her windows. The box was warm from sitting in the sunlight, but Edelgard felt nothing but coldness as she rolled her thumbs against the lock. It opened with a  _ click. _ From within the darkness, a face swirled with red and white, like blood curling in the snow, stared back at her. Whispers echoed from its motionless mouth. The whispers grew louder as she reached in to touch the cool porcelain that shaped its face.

A loud knock startled Edelgard. She quickly slammed the box shut, hiding the mask, and returned the box to its shelf. “Come in!” 

To her surprise, it was Caspar that burst in. “Edelgard, we gotta go! Professor wants us to meet in the Black Eagles classroom now!” 

Seeing his urgency, she quickly joined her classmate, careful to shut the door tight behind her. Before long, they were running down the corridor. Sunlight bled through the windows, blood red, shining light on the floors no one walked. The emptiness of Garreg Mach was haunting. Edelgard thought she heard murmurs in the walls and hisses in the shadows, but she knew it was the thrumming of her heart in her ears that made it seem so. 

By the time they reached the classroom, Edelgard was breathless. The rest of the Black Eagles were already there and waiting. Lindhardt spoke in hushed tones with Ferdinand and Dorothea. Petra murmured to Hubert. Bernadetta was sitting at a desk in silence, twiddling her thumbs. Byleth stood before her desk, arms crossed, with an unreadable expression. Once Edelgard and Caspar entered, all eyes were on them.

“I found her!” Caspar announced, smiling. 

“We can begin, then,” Byleth murmured. 

“Not without us!” Sylvain called from the entrance. Behind him stood Mercedes and Lysithea. 

“You’re not returning to your Houses?” Byleth asked. 

“They’ve already gone on their own. We were too late to the party.” Sylvain shrugged, smirking. “So we thought we’d crash yours.”

“My House is the same. They’ve gone with Professor Hanneman in search of Flayn,” Lysithea said as she entered. 

“The more the merrier I always say!” Ferdinand chirped.

“Very well,” Byleth said, gesturing to the Black Eagles. “Get settled in, you three. I have our assignment.”

Sylvain saddled up beside Dorothea with a wink, making her roll her eyes and scoot closer to Petra. Mercedes fell in beside Ferdinand; he greeted her with a murmur and a blush. Lysithea came to stand beside Edelgard, smiling.

“As you’ve already heard, Flayn has gone missing. Three days have passed since she was last seen,” Byleth began. She was as unfeeling as ever, perhaps more so. The more Edelgard watched her, the more detached she appeared. “The Church of Seiros called for an all-hands effort to find her. Every student, priest, and soldier is on the lookout for her.”

“May I interrupt?” Sylvain asked with a raised hand. 

“Say what you will,” Byleth said. 

“Why are we going through such an effort to find this girl? Has anyone considered that maybe she just…  _ ran away?  _ She’s young and comely, maybe she ran off and eloped with her paramour?” Sylvain’s musing garnered more than an exasperated look from the other students. “I mean, come on, if Seteth were  _ my _ brother, I’d want to get as far away from him as possible… and I’ve had my fair share of rotten brothers.”

“Thank you for regaling us with your exciting but incorrect theories, Sylvain,” Byleth muttered, not sounding very thankful at all. “Unfortunately, there is enough evidence to indicate an abduction. Due to Flayn’s closeness to the archbishop and her influence in the Church, there is more than enough reason to warrant a hostage situation that can quickly turn lethal.”

It was more than that. Edelgard worried her lip. Those Who Slither in the Dark wanted Flayn for more than just her role in the Church. Edelgard heard mutterings of their interest in her blood before, but never thought anything of it. She cursed herself for her blindness; she should’ve known what they were after! She could’ve stopped this! A special Crest rested within Flayn’s veins, but which exactly, Edelgard did not know. She had no interest in harvesting blood, not when she knew the repercussions of its use. As she thought of it, she felt her heart wrench. She felt so powerless. She rode atop a horse and lost the reins; it bucked and kicked beneath her, ready to throw her and ride off, out of reach.

“We need to focus,” Edelgard said. The edge in her voice was sharper than any sword. “If we don’t find her in time, I fear the consequences will be far worse than we can imagine.” 

“Then, what must we do?” Ferdinand asked. 

“We’ll split up,” Byleth said. “The monastery is a vast place. I doubt it’s been searched thoroughly.” Byleth nodded to Edelgard. “Edelgard, you take Hubert, Caspar, Lysithea, Bernadetta, and Lindhardt.”

“Woohoo! I’m on the cool team!” Caspar cheered. 

“Cool people don’t cheer like wild animals,” Lysithea teased slyly. 

“What was that?” Caspar grunted.

Hubert chuckled darkly. “She’s right.”

Caspar’s face puckered, and he looked ready to retort, but Edelgard stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “That’s enough,” she ordered, annoyed. 

“Yeah, everyone knows no team is cool without the professor,” Ferdinand boasted, flipping his hair. “And myself, obviously.” 

“We’re the better-looking team as well,” Sylvain added haughtily. “Wouldn’t you agree, Dorothea?” 

Smirking, Dorothea nodded. “Couldn’t agree more,” she said playfully. She gave Petra a meaningful nudge. “Petra being the best-looking of us all, of course.” 

“Yes! My eyesight is very good!” Petra agreed happily. 

Dorothea frowned, discouraged. “No… that’s not what I--”

“We will be scouting the cathedral,” Byleth interrupted, looking as impatient as Edelgard felt. “Edelgard, take your team to the Reception Hall and proceed to investigate the second floor where the professors’ offices and Audience Chamber are.” 

“Understood, Professor,” Edelgard said. 

As Byleth led her team out of the classroom, Edelgard felt her unease return. She did not realize how calming Byleth’s presence was until she was gone. She worried her lip again, feeling it start to bleed. Inhaling sharply, she mustered her resolve once more. “Let’s go. Time is our enemy.” 

“After you,” Lindhardt drawled. 

Edelgard led her team across the vacant courtyard. The previous night’s frost ate at the hedges, leaving their leaves yellowed and dying. The colors of the sunset stained every leaf as autumn seemed to take hold overnight, setting the courtyard aflame in reds and oranges and golds. When they left Garreg Mach to find Miklan, everything was warm and green and the air was full of birdsong. How could it all change so fast? Every now and then, the hammer of boots on the ground and the clanging of armor echoed down the walkways, followed by shouting and slamming. The knights did not pay any heed to Edelgard or her classmates as they crossed them. Their dogged search blinded them to anything and everyone. 

Pushing through the heavy doors, Edelgard found the Reception Hall abandoned. Her footsteps echoed as she walked across the aisle. Only the flickering flames of candles waved at her as she passed by. Books were left open, missing their readers, and papers remained unfinished, scattered across the tables. Edelgard walked faster, feeling the loneliness of the forgotten hall nip at her heels.

Ascending the stairs, she felt her team keeping close on her tail. The second floor was darker than she remembered. Without the priests milling about to re-light the candles, many had blown out, reduced to nothing but mounds of melted wax. Spots of dried wax crusted the stone floors, looking like piles of coagulated white blood. What light did remain was dull and ominous, blinking in the shadows like demonic eyes peering from the abyss. It was colder in the halls than before, for they were left unwarmed by the wandering of the living. Frost swirled from Edelgard’s lips to caress her face, but it gave her no comfort. 

“We will spread out. Bernadetta, Lysithea, scout the library. Lindhardt, Caspar, you’ll take the offices. Hubert and I will search the Audience Chamber, ” Edelgard commanded. “Search every corner, every room, and when you’re done, we will meet back here by the stairs.” 

Bernadetta and Lysithea stuck to one another’s side like glue, whispering about ghosts frantically. They did not get far before a shrill scream echoed through the second floor. Lysithea and Bernadetta clung to one another, joining in on the shrieking. 

Edelgard’s blood ran cold. “Change of plans,” she growled. “Caspar, go fetch the professor and get the rest of her team here. Quickly!”

Caspar dashed off into the shadows of the stairwell, vanishing in an instant. “I’ll be back before you know it!” he called back. 

“We need to figure out where that scream came from,” Edelgard said, surprised by the tremor in her own voice. Edelgard clenched her fists until her knuckles burned white. 

“It sounded like it came from down the hall.” Hubert was already walking to the corridor where the professors’ offices resided. 

Edelgard moved to step after him, only to feel two hands grabbing at her back. She turned, shocked to see Bernadetta and Lysithea clinging to her with frightened expressions on their faces. She quirked a brow. “What are you two doing?” 

Upon being caught, Lyisthea quickly hid her hand behind her back, avoiding Edelgard’s stare defiantly. “I’m not doing anything! I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said stubbornly. “It’s not like I’m scared or anything.” With a sniff, she marched in front of Edelgard, going after Hubert. 

Bernadetta only clung tighter. “She may not be scared, but I am!” 

Edelgard’s expression softened. “Fine, stay close. We’re safe as long as we have each other.”

Following after Lysithea, they found Hubert standing before a tightly shut door. He tested the knob, turning it, but the door did not open. He pushed against it, but the hinges did not give. “I heard whispers in here,” he said. 

“Professor Jeritza’s office?” Lysithea tilted her head. “But he’s been on leave for moons… Why would anyone be in his space?” 

“Whoever is there isn’t supposed to be.” Edelgard pressed her face against the locked door. Sure enough, she heard murmurs and the whistle of a draft, as if someone opened a window. Gritting her teeth, she shoved at the door, but it remained steadfast. She cursed under her breath. 

“Stand aside,” Lysithea said. She spit on each of her palms, clasped her hands together, and gave them a good rub. “I got this.” 

Hubert eyed her like a startled vulture. “You?!” he scoffed. 

Before Edelgard could protest, a ball of fire glowed between Lysithea’s hands, bringing light to her impish expression. 

_ Boom! _

A blast of Fire shot from Lysithea’s palms, bursting into the door, sending it flying into the room, aflame. Bernadetta squealed, falling backwards as the explosion startled her. “Ch-chaotic!” she stammered, gawking at Lysithea. 

Lindhardt joined them, likely hearing the blast. He eyed the smoking doorframe tiredly. A wry smirk crept on his pallid face. “She’ll fit right in.” 

“See? I told you I got this.” Lysithea wiped her hands together and crossed her arms, shooting Hubert a self-assured smirk. 

Hubert was slack-jawed. 

“Lysithea,” Edelgard warned, pinching the bridge of her nose with a heavy sigh. 

“What? Were we just going to keep shoving at the door until it got tired?” Lysithea protested.

“Nevermind.” Edelgard shook her head, swallowing her agitation. “Let’s investigate.” 

Smoke wafted in the office, smelling of burnt wood as the door smoldered against the wall, crumbling into white ash. As the smoke cleared, the outlay of the room became apparent. Cobwebs collected on the walls and shelves and furniture, spun thick in cords of white; they shivered against the draft of wind that whispered within. The curtains, dyed dark purple, were drawn, hiding the red glow of the setting sun, but only barely. A single desk occupied one side of the wall, but it had not been sat in for a long time. 

Bernadetta screamed. “Pr-Professor Manuela!” 

Edelgard found the professor lying face-down on the floor. Her white robe held a bloody stain that was steadily growing larger. A dagger was buried in her side, glinting evilly in the dull light. “She’s hurt!” Edelgard hissed. 

Footsteps echoed from the hall, growing louder until a flood of people entered Jeritza’s office. Caspar led the charge, panting and smiling. “I found them!” he said proudly. 

“Sheesh, what happened to the door?” Sylvain asked.

Upon noticing Professor Manuela’s body, the Black Eagles collectively held their breath, strangled into stunned silence. Dorothea shoved her way through the students, falling to her knees beside the wounded professor. Her green eyes glistened with tears. “Manuela?” she whispered, touching her shoulder softly. Tears rolled down her face. “Manuela?!” 

Byleth stood beside Edelgard, staring down at Professor Manuela with a vacant expression. “Is she dead?” she asked. 

Edelgard shook her head. Her heart turned to ice.  _ This is my fault. _ “No, she’s just hurt, but we need to get her to the infirmary immediately.”

“Look!” Ferdinand shouted. “She appears to be pointing at something!” 

Sure enough, Professor Manuela’s hand was placed in a way that seemed to be pointing. Whether she collapsed like that or was placed in that manner was a mystery. Edelgard had her suspicions. The direction she pointed in seemed to be where the draft was coming from. Caspar hurried over, narrowing his eyes at the bookcase. With a heave, he moved it aside, unveiling a cavernous entryway that descended into an abyss. 

“Professor Manuela’s attacker is likely down there.” Byleth frowned. 

“You mean… we are going down into that dark, scary place?” Bernadetta whined. 

“We must,” Byleth decided.

Edelgard saw an opportunity. She could not let it go, not if it meant putting an end to the madness. “Professor, you go on ahead. Dorothea and I will take Professor Manuela to the infirmary.” 

Byleth hesitated. “Are you sure?” 

“Please, you must go,” Edelgard said as she moved to help Dorothea. “We can handle this.” 

Feeling Byleth’s gaze lock onto her, Edelgard feared her professor would refuse. Thankfully, she relented. “Very well. I trust you.” She nodded to the rest of the students. “Prepare yourselves, we know not what waits for us within.” 

As the rest of the Black Eagles descended into the darkness, Edelgard hoisted Manuela up, bringing the professor’s arm over her shoulder. Dorothea supported her on the other side. Together, they left the dingy room and shuffled to the infirmary. 

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Dorothea asked, voice trembling. 

“She will.”  _ She has to be. _ Edelgard could not force herself to dwell on the worst. There was enough clouding her mind already. If the tempest within her head grew any stronger, she would not be able to think. 

Pushing open the doors to the infirmary, Edelgard and Dorothea quickly helped Manuela onto the cot. The pallor of her face was frightening. Sweat slickened her brow, cold. Her breaths came quick and shallow. Edelgard felt a lump form in her throat.  _ This is my fault _ . The thought kept haunting her head.  _ Had I been more prepared, had I known what to do, they would not have taken the next step for me. This is my failure. _ Her panic gave way to fury.  _ I will fix this. I must. _

Dorothea’s hands glittered with white magic. “Don’t worry, Manuela, I’ll fix you up,” she promised. “Edie, please, you must pull the dagger from her. As soon as you do, I can use my magic to close the wound.” 

Grabbing the handle, Edelgard exhaled steadily. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll pull.” 

Dorothea’s hands trembled. She bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes. “What if my magic isn’t enough?” she fretted, voice thick with sadness. “What if I can’t save her? I… I can’t lose her. She’s--she’s all I ever had.” 

“Dorothea, you can’t think like that, not when we still have a chance. Please, you must  _ focus.”  _ Edelgard smothered her growing anxiety. She needed to be strong. These were small matters compared to the horrors she would face in the future. She could not give in. “No matter what happens, you’ll still have us.”  __

“Okay,” Dorothea whispered shakily. A single tear rolled down her flushed cheek. “Okay.” She sighed, shutting her eyes, and began to count, “One, two… three!” 

Edelgard pulled the dagger from Manuela’s side, causing her to heave awake with a gag. Dorothea pressed her healing hands to Manuela, expelling her magic into the wound. Edelgard watched, holding her breath. As the white magic pulsed into Manuela, the professor’s eyes fluttered open. Her breaths came slowly, steadily, and she sighed.  __

Manuela’s hazel eyes rolled, finding Dorothea. A soft smile spread on her tired face. “Hello, little songbird. Did you come to save me?”

Dorothea choked back a sob. Whatever words she had died in her throat. She could only nod. 

Manuela shut her eyes, still smiling. “That’s my girl.” 

Edelgard felt her muscles unwind. For now, Manuela was safe. “Good work, Dorothea.” 

“Thank you, Edie,” Dorothea rasped, smiling. She carefully began to pull back Manuela’s bloody robe. She tore at the bottom hem of her jade green dress, peeling it away from her body to expose the stab wound. It had almost completely shut, but it still gaped at them, pooling steadily with blood. “We need bandages and supplies to clean her wound.” 

“Where does she keep all of that?” Edelgard asked. 

Dorothea reached for Manuela’s neck, pulling a chain from her bosom. “She keeps the keys on her at all times.” She winked. “But that’s a secret, okay?”

Edelgard smiled, taking the key from Dorothea. “Where’s the cabinet?” 

“Wedged between the bookshelves. It has a heart-shaped lock.” 

Edelgard crossed the infirmary briskly. Though she was happy Manuela was safe, she had more on her mind than the professor’s fate. Whatever mayhem was taking place beneath the monastery needed to be stopped. If she allowed them to continue this way without her consent, they would be emboldened and likely commit fouler deeds in the future. 

Edelgard twisted the key into the lock that secured a tall cabinet with several shelves. As she opened it, Edelgard was treated to a treasure trove of supplies. The topmost shelf housed a liquor cabinet full of sparkling bottles of all shapes and sizes. Most of them were broken into and half empty. The next shelf harbored stacks of dusty old tomes with broken backs. Beneath that, she found the supplies she needed at eye-level. Edelgard grabbed a roll of fresh, white bandages and a salve to clean the injury. As she shifted the supplies in her hand, her eyes wandered to the fourth shelf, the last shelf, below. File after file sat there, each labelled with a last name. 

Edelgard’s breath caught as one name stuck out in particular: Eisner, Byleth 

Stealing a glance behind her, she found Dorothea stroking Manuela’s face, murmuring softly. She needed to be quick. With haste, she snatched Byleth’s medical file and opened it. 

_ Name: Eisner, Byleth  _

_ Father: Eisner, Jeralt R.  _

_ Mother: [REDACTED]  _

_ Birthday: ??? _

_ Age: ???  _

Edelgard felt her blood freeze over. How did they not know her age? When she was born? She tried to believe that the information was simply omitted because it was perceived to be unnecessary, but the more she read over it, the more her fear grew. Why did they hide her mother’s name? Her heart pounded in her ears as she kept reading. 

In fresh ink it was written: 

_ Crest: Crest of Flames _

But it was what was written beneath her confirmed Crest that made Edelgard’s heart sink to her stomach, where it swelled with dread. 

_ Special Notes: Patient has a pulse but no heart. Possibly due to [REDACTED]. _

Whatever assessment was written before was stamped over and covered. Edelgard’s hands shook as she held the file. She wasn’t crazy before. When she pressed her face to Byleth’s chest and heard no heart, it was not because she was dead… it was because she  _ didn’t have one. _ Edelgard shut the file, breathing shakily. What more did the Church know? What did they wish to hide? Edelgard’s throat felt dry, she could not swallow. Sweat beaded her brow. That woman, the one that captured Edelgard’s heart, had none of her own to speak of. 

“Edie? Is everything okay? Did you find the supplies?” 

At the sound of Dorothea’s voice, Edelgard shoved Byleth’s file back into place, and slammed the cabinet shut. “Yes!” she said, louder than she needed to. “I found them.” 

Rushing to Dorothea’s side, she handed over the supplies and returned the keys, cursing her trembling hands. To her dismay, Dorothea noticed. She gazed up at Edelgard with concern. “Edie? Is everything alright?” 

“Ah, no... I just… don’t feel too well.” Edelgard smiled wanly. “I think the stress might be getting to me.” 

Dorothea frowned. “Well, I got everything handled here. Maybe catch a breather in your room?”

Edelgard was already leaving. “Yes… that’s for the best.” 

Breathless, Edelgard left the infirmary. Her mind raced.  _ Rhea, Thales, Flayn, Jeritza...  _ Names flickered through her head, giving her painful glimpses of each face.  _ Seteth, Solon, Hubert…  _ More faces, more names.  _ Ferdinand, Petra, Dorothea, Lysithea… _ All these people, they all impacted her life for worse or for better.  _ Bernadetta, Mercedes, Caspar, Lindhardt, Sylvain…  _ They kept coming, invading her mind’s eye. Their fates dangled before her wondering, whispering:  _ Will we live? Will we die? What will you do? _

_ Byleth… _ Her face tore through her, cold and unfeeling.

Edelgard burst into her room, slamming her door shut behind her. Once again, she did not know how she got here. It was all a blur. She began to wonder if this was all a bad dream. “Focus,” she whispered, shutting her eyes. “Focus. You need to put a stop to this.” 

She opened her eyes again, finding her shadow in her room, a silhouette standing before a blood red sun.  _ She who fights with monsters should be cautious… for she may become one… _

Edelgard’s body felt too heavy to move. She forced her feet forward, feeling her head pound with the thoughts that berated her. With trembling hands, she reached for the chest on her shelf once more. Her fingers rolled against the lock; the grating of the rotating metal seemed too loud. It grinded into Edelgard’s ears, making her wince. She could almost taste the iron in her mouth. Or was that blood? She was biting her lip again. Edelgard clenched her teeth together, swallowing painfully, and stared into the chest that seemed to echo as it opened. 

Her hand was steady as she reached in, pulling the red and white mask from within. She held it before her face, staring into its black, vacant eyes. The darkness, the abyss, it stared as well, it stared into her. Whispers filled her ears, unintelligible. The whispers hissed until they became as deafening as the church bells that rang outside her window. Time was slipping through her fingers. She needed to hurry.

As she stared into the mask, she whispered, _“Ducunt volentem fata.”_

From the depths of the mask’s vacant eye sockets, two red orbs burned bright like suns to glare at Edelgard. The whispers emanating from the mask’s motionless mouth grew louder until it said, clear as day,  _ “Nolentem trahunt.” _

Inhaling deeply, Edelgard shut her eyes and brought the mask to her face. As soon as the cool porcelain touched her cheek, her neck began to burn. She cried in pain, dropping the mask. It whispered at her, angry to be cast aside, but she ignored it. Reaching for her throat, she felt like she was caught in a burning snare. She pulled, snapping off her necklace, and the burning stopped. Gasping, she realized it was the Goddess Icon that singed her skin. Her hand began to shake as she held it before her lilac eyes. She squeezed the necklace tighter as she remembered how it felt to have Byleth gift it to her.  _ I can’t think about that right now… This must be done _ . She set the necklace aside.  _ I don’t need luck today. I just need to be strong. _

Retrieving her mask, Edelgard attempted to wear it once more. This time, it rested against her face completely, hiding her. As she wore the mask, the tolling bells, the heinous whispers, all went silent. She exhaled. When she opened her eyes again, she was in the abyss. She could feel herself sinking, though she did not move. She fell deeper, deeper, deeper, until her mind and body realized there was no end. Edelgard surrendered quietly, allowing herself to be cloaked in blackness and wear a blazing diadem. The feathers of her mortal coil molted, replaced by plumes as black as pitch that dripped with blood that burned like embers. 

Sound slowly returned, beginning as a muffled murmur, then maturing into a noise. The darkness was chased away by a red light. The sun was still setting outside her window. She was in her room again. When she looked down, she stood in a pool of blood, but when she blinked it melted into her floor once more. Her body was weighed down by metal; iron armor hugged her frame. It felt uncomfortably warm, as if it had been sitting in the sun for too long. A heavy black cloak hung from her shoulders, hiding her frame. The armor on her shoulders ruffled with red feathers that glinted in the burning sunlight. From her mask, a helm hid the rest of her head, crowned with another long, red plume that fell to the small of her back. 

Everything around her seemed… darker from behind the mask. The shadows shivered as if they were alive. She heard distant murmurs that spoke a language that was not her own. Yet, she was composed. Dark magic coursed through her veins, licking her flesh and salivating peace into her body. The mirror of her vanity trembled as she turned to face it. It was not Edelgard that stared back. 

It was the Flame Emperor. 


	21. Seraphim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Flame Emperor intervenes in the dungeon beneath Garreg Mach, where Death lingers, and comes face-to-face with the Ashen Demon.

Death called for her. 

Death’s voice echoed within her mind, beckoning for her arrival, though he did not speak her name. 

The Flame Emperor stood in Edelgard’s room, listening, feeling. He was close, the knight that called himself Death. She could smell his blood, taste it, feel it. He was hurt. 

Darkness reached for her cloak, tugging at the hems, wishing for her to stay. Voices, speaking in a dead tongue, echoed within her helm. The greater the flame, the larger the shadows it cast. 

She shut her eyes, projecting all her magic, all her energy, outward. She sought Death. He was somewhere deep beneath the surface world. There was no sunlight, only candles that flickered against damp, gray stone. There was a young woman, curled on the ground, unconscious. Her hair was peridot green; her face was as pale as snow, drained of vitality. Flayn. A snake of a woman coiled at Flayn’s side with hair as red as blood, sleeping, waiting. The serpent’s eyes, as red as her hair, flickered open, feeling the astral presence of the Flame Emperor gazing into her. A knowing smile curled on her lips, and she shut her eyes and mouthed the words:  _ Our savior. Our salvation.  _

The Flame Emperor saw faces… many faces… bloodied and tired and angry. She recognized them, they were Edelgard’s Black Eagles. She saw them running, shouting, fighting alongside one another. She smelled their blood and sweat and fear as they penetrated deeper into the dungeon, chasing Death. They never hesitated. They did not cower. 

They persevered, for they followed… _ her.  _

She had eyes as cold as ice, a face unmoved even as she gored a mage with her blade. The reek of blood and the cries of pain she reaped from her enemies did not stir her. She was untouchable, immovable. Dangerous. A heartless demon. The Ashen Demon. She cut down man after man, bathing in their blood as it rained from their wounds. She never hesitated, even as they begged for their lives. Her sword did not stop. Her sword hunted for Death.

Death waited for the demon with glowing red eyes. His thoughts leaked into the Flame Emperor’s mind. The same womb birthed their dark magic, and their veins intertwined with one another, pulsing in unison.  _ She’s mine,  _ Death thought.  _ Her blood is mine. It sings for me. Her body is mine. It bleeds for me. _

The Ashen Demon lunged at Death fearlessly, ignorant to the malice in his thoughts. A flash of silver light cut through the Flame Emperor’s vision as Death’s scythe lashed into the Ashen Demon. Blood spattered as the blade buried into her legs, tearing into her floral stockings until the petals bled.

_ Byleth! _

The Flame Emperor could feel Edelgard stirring within; she was an eager bird fluttering within an iron cage, wishing to be free. The longing, the desire to be there, fighting by her demon’s side, protecting her, was stronger than ever. Edelgard’s feelings doused the malicious blaze of the Flame Emperor, freezing her over. 

The Flame Emperor opened her eyes. She was back in Edelgard’s room, away from the dungeon, away from the Ashen Demon. Edelgard’s heart stilled within her iron fortress, granting the Flame Emperor autonomy once more. She knew where to go now. Raising her hand, a swirl of dark magic rose from her armor. With a snap, she warped from the confines of the bedroom, sinking, sinking, sinking to find Death. 

In a blast of dark purple light, she emerged in the dungeon that Death ruled. She assumed her bodily form, standing in what appeared to be a prison cell. Chains, rusted and broken, hung from the stone walls. Bones gathered on the cobblestone floors, rotten and forgotten. The shadows swirled at her feet to welcome her, whispering. Shocked and confused murmurs greeted her. She felt every eye of the Black Eagles stare into her, enraged and frightened. The Flame Emperor fed on their torment, relishing it, even as she felt Edelgard’s gentle longing to keep them unharmed take hold. 

“Don’t engage with that one!” Hubert ordered the students as the Flame Emperor came to light. “They’re too dangerous for us.”

Some of the students, Caspar in particular, still glared at the Flame Emperor, willing to take on the challenge. To their benefit, they adhered to Hubert’s command and kept their distance, eyeing her warily. 

Death danced with the Ashen Demon. His scythe pined for her head, but she ducked, sending her Relic rattling into his knees. He buckled over, laughing hollowly in his skeletal helm. His red eyes flickered to meet the Flame Emperor’s, but only for a heartbeat. He was back on his feet again, laughing louder, more gratingly. 

The Ashen Demon did not take notice of the Flame Emperor. Instead, she longed for Death, bringing her Relic down onto his black chest plate. Death was ready. His scythe swung upwards, uppercutting the Ashen Demon’s shoulder, digging into her muscle to drink her blood. 

_ Byleth!  _ Edelgard called her name within, desperate. But her cries were heard by no one except the Flame Emperor and the Flame Emperor did not speak. 

The Black Eagles flocked to their professor upon seeing her get injured, but the Ashen Demon shouted back at them, “Stay back! He’s too strong for you! Do not come near!” 

The students huddled close to one another, eyes wide in terror and faces twisted in rage. Only one face remained immune to the pain their professor endured. Only one face stared into the Flame Emperor and did not look away. Hubert. He met the Flame Emperor’s burning glare without fear and nodded to her.

The Ashen Demon brought her Relic down onto Death, invigorated by a new flame, a new will. The desire to protect wafted off of the demon, blistering the Flame Emperor with its heat.  _ She too is the burning one, _ the Flame Emperor realized. There was a kinship between them, a silent understanding in their blood. A shared power. When the Ashen Demon finally locked eyes with the Flame Emperor, there was a latent recognition that flickered between them like the embers of two different fires meeting and becoming one. 

_ Byleth... _

With a loud bang, the Relic struck Death again. It sent his skeletal helm flying, cracked and broken, to join the piles of bones left on the dungeon floor. Death fell backward, and the face of a man was all that remained. His pale skin bled red from the wound on his head, staining his face in dark rivulets. His eyes, so pale blue they almost looked silver, stared into the Ashen Demon in crazed awe. Rose gold hair as long and as thick as a lion's mane framed his narrow face.

Even in defeat, all Death could do was laugh. 

“The Death Knight… Is Professor Jeritza?!” Caspar exclaimed in disbelief. 

As the Ashen Demon raised her sword to deal the final blow, the Flame Emperor summoned her weapon. In a tourbillon of black and purple, she conjured her Devil Axe. It was a grisly weapon constructed by beast bone and veined with dark magic. Leathered demonic flesh laced at the grip and gnarled up to the head, where it glistened with a red glow. A single reptilian eye rested at the base of its head, blinking at the Flame Emperor in recognition. 

Before she could swing her Devil Axe, there was a cry from one of the students. She broke from the crowd, running to the Ashen Demon. Her eyes, a deep lavender color, gazed up at the Ashen Demon imploringly. Her hair was as rose gold as Death’s. Her voice was as soft as a dove’s wing. “Please, don’t kill him!” she begged. Her lips trembled as she gazed at the defeated knight. “It’s you… All this time, I’ve wondered…”

When Death looked upon his savior’s visage, he recoiled. His voice shook as he spoke. “You... No… Stay away… Stay away from me!” 

The Ashen Demon lowered her blade, staring down at Mercedes with those cold, unfeeling eyes. “What is he to you?” 

Tears welled in Mercedes’s eyes. “He… he’s…”

Amidst the distraction, a flicker of insanity rose on Death’s face. He reached for his scythe, lips curling in a bloodthirsty smile. As he gripped it, he chuckled. His glare honed in on the Ashen Demon’s throat. 

The scythe hissed through the air, causing Mercedes to scream, but it was the Devil Axe that took the blow in the Ashen Demon’s stead. The Flame Emperor stood between them, glaring down at Death as her axe trembled against his scythe. She shoved him off, sending him sliding backwards. 

“Enough,” the Flame Emperor hissed. Her voice reverberated in her helm, metallic and inhuman. “Your work is done here.” 

Death stared into her blazing eyes, smirking. “Ah, you’re always getting in the way of my games…”

_ “Leave.” _ The Flame Emperor’s order was absolute, binding her knight. He had no choice but to recede. “Your services are no longer required.” 

“This isn’t the end,” Death purred to the Ashen Demon. “Next time, it’ll be  _ your  _ head rolling.”

“No!” Mercedes cried out, reaching for Death, but the Ashen Demon stopped her with an outstretched arm. The torment on her angelic face was powerful enough to make the heavens cry. “Please, don’t go. Don’t you know me? Don’t you remember me?”

Death flinched from Mercedes’s words, clenching his teeth. He glared up at the Flame Emperor mutinously. “In the end, you want us all to be as tortured as you,” he whispered. 

In a whirl of purple, Death warped from the dungeon, disappearing into thin air. The Flame Emperor stared at the empty space he left behind, feeling strangely empty herself. Tortured, was it? She could feel Edelgard flinching within, harmed by his words.

“He got away,” the Ashen Demon muttered in monotone. 

The Flame Emperor faced the demon, only to step back in surprise when she saw her charging towards her with her Relic poised to strike. She only had a second to summon her shield before the sword came crashing down on her. Her shield was as massive as it was magnificent. Obsidian forged its face. Once it caught the light of the glowing Sword of the Creator, it shone with a red sheen. Emblazoned on its surface, a silver phoenix soared, surrounded by white flames. Sparks flew from the shield as the Ashen Demon’s sword came crashing down on it, protecting the Flame Emperor. With a grunt, she shoved off the warring woman, sending her skidding back into place across from her. 

“I am the Flame Emperor. The burning one,” she said, steely. “It is I who will reforge the world.” 

The Ashen Demon glared into the emperor. Blood, hot and crimson, unfurled from her shoulder wound like rose petals to soak the stones. There was no woman behind those empty blue eyes. There was only the dogged desire to kill. She readied her sword to strike once more. 

_ Byleth, please... _

Within, the Flame Emperor felt Edelgard crumble. Death’s words drove a knife into her heart, and the Ashen Demon’s attack only twisted it deeper.  _ This is how it was always meant to be, _ the Flame Emperor thought, but the realization only tormented the woman’s soul within.

Dark magic swirled around the Flame Emperor. There would be no fight between them today. Enough damage had been done. The pain in the air was tangible. 

“We will meet again,” said the Flame Emperor as she gazed into the demon’s eyes. 

As the Ashen Demon charged forward, the Flame Emperor vanished in a blast of dark magic. Rising from the depths of the dungeon, she emerged again in Edelgard’s room. Twilight settled in the lilac sky as the last glimpse of the golden sun glittered on the horizon. The tolling cathedral bells marked the passage of time. Death was gone, defeated, and Flayn was alive, though she laid with a snake. 

There was no need for the Flame Emperor anymore. 

With careful hands, the Flame Emperor removed her mask. A shrill whistle, like the wail from the spout of a heated kettle, filled the air. The Flame Emperor’s armor, cloak, and magic dissipated into a writhing shadow that was sucked in by the shrieking mask. With a hiss, it was gone, and the Flame Emperor was but a memory. 

Edelgard stared down at the face she once wore. She was numb to the sound of her heartbeat and the feeling of air in her lungs. She could only think about Byleth’s face… The way she looked into her when she brought the Sword of the Creator down on her. Though she saw her wrath through the Flame Emperor’s eyes, she could not help but feel like it was meant for her.  _ This is how it was always meant to be, _ the Flame Emperor thought. Edelgard lips trembled. The more she tried to wrap her head around the truth, the more it felt like her neck would snap. 

Shutting her mask back into its chest, Edelgard knew she needed to return to the Black Eagles before she was missed. She took a deep breath. Her chest felt painfully tight. Her heart felt frostbitten. She could not get the glare of Byleth’s eyes out of her head. 

The halls were still empty. As Edelgard walked down the corridor, she felt it lengthen and narrow before her. The horizon devoured the sun, permitting the night to take hold. Fresh moonlight filtered through the windows, bleaching the halls of color. It was suffocating. Loneliness took Edelgard’s hand and guided her. It was cold to the touch. Once she stepped outside, it was even colder. Frost glittered like the stars above on the crimson leaves. Ice billowed from Edelgard’s lips as the chill of the night nipped at her face. A breeze hushed against her body, causing her to shiver. 

Edelgard chanced a look at the heavens. Maybe, for once, heaven would bring her comfort. Swathes of silver stars stretched above her. So far away… so beautiful, so wonderful. Edelgard would climb the tallest mountain if it meant she could be closer to those stars. Once she stood at the peak, she would reach for them. Even if she could only touch the stardust, just the touch would be enough. The sun would come again, of course, and burn the stars with the flames of reality. If Edelgard stared too long at where they used to be, she knew she would burn too. 

It seemed darker once she entered the Reception Hall. The candles had burnt down to the end of their wicks, flickering meekly in the dark. She walked by the empty desks, hearing the ghosts of laughter and chatter from the students that used to haunt the hall. Ascending the stairs was a painstaking task. Her strength waned, burnt up like the candles, reducing her body into useless, melted wax. Voices echoed from the second floor, carrying themselves down the stairs into Edelgard’s ears. She recognized the voices as the Black Eagles’. The thought of joining them again made her walk faster. Loneliness chased after her up the stairs, ready to drag her back down again. She wanted to see them, hear them, be with them. It took seeing them through the Flame Emperor’s eyes for her to realize how important they’ve become to her. 

“Lady Edelgard!” Petra greeted her as she entered the hall where the professors’ offices were. “We got the victory!” 

Caspar jumped out from Professor Jeritza’s office, face brightening upon seeing Edelgard. “Edelgard! It was crazy! Did you know that Professor Jeritza is the Death Knight? I never would’ve guessed… His fight with Professor was insane! I thought he’d chop her head off!”

Edelgard ran to them, breathless. “Is everyone okay?” she asked, though she knew the answer. 

“Professor has a bad wound on her shoulder, but Lindhardt patched her up pretty well,” Ferdinand said as he stepped out of the office to meet her. He smirked at Edelgard. “It’s a shame you weren’t there. I must say, I really carried the team in your absence. I could’ve taken all those goons with my eyes closed.” 

Edelgard was too happy to see her Black Eagles to be bothered by Ferdinand’s boasting. “I’m sure you fought splendidly,” she said, smiling. 

Taken back, Ferdinand cleared his throat, blushing. “Well, I’m glad you think so.”

Within Professor Jeritza’s office, Edelgard found Byleth. She stood before the entrance to the dungeon, glaring into the black abyss. Her shoulder was split open, but the bleeding stopped. Seeing her again made Edelgard’s heart spring to life, but she hesitated in the doorway. Though her heart sung for her, her mind was petrified by the sight of her bringing her sword down against the Flame Emperor’s shield. What’s more, the writing in her medical file ran through her head.  _ A pulse but no heart.  _

Sensing her stare, Byleth turned to face Edelgard. Her glare vanished in an instant. Her expression softened, warmed by the sight of her. “Edelgard,” she greeted. 

The warmth in her voice was new. She almost sounded...  _ happy. _ Edelgard felt the ice in her heart slowly melt as she crossed the space between them to stand before her professor. A woman without a heart couldn’t possibly look so radiant. “How did it go?” she asked, surprised by the nervousness in her voice. 

Byleth’s brows furrowed with that serious wrinkle she always had when she was troubled. “The Death Knight got away… And there was another that called themselves the Flame Emperor that went with him.” Edelgard stiffened when she mentioned the Flame Emperor. “I’m not sure what it was they wanted, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Edelgard pressed. 

“What matters is that Flayn is safe. She was wounded, but she’s safe,” Byleth said. 

Edelgard smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.” She really was glad; for a moment, she was afraid Byleth would rally for the Flame Emperor’s capture, or go on a hunt for the Death Knight, but it seemed she only cared about the safety of those she was bound to protect. “Where is Flayn?”

“Mercedes and Lysithea helped her to the infirmary. There was another student found with her; she was unharmed but unconscious. Apparently, she went missing a year ago; it was thought she ran away, but… I guess she was abducted? The security of this place never ceases to amaze me…” Byleth’s tone soured.

_ The snake.  _ Edelgard remembered the look in her blood red eyes and sustained a shiver. Whoever the student was that disappeared a year ago, she was never coming back. All that remained was a ghost in her shell. “Well, it’s like you said, all that matters is that they’re safe.” 

“How is Professor Manuela?” Byleth asked. 

Thinking about Professor Manuela only conjured the thoughts of Byleth’s file. Edelgard looked away.  _ A pulse with no heart. No birthday. No age. _ The enigma engulfing Byleth only thickened the more she dwelled on it. “She’s stable,” Edelgard said listlessly. “Dorothea tended to her well.”

“Good.” There was a pause, then she rested her hand on top of Edelgard’s head. “What’s bothering you?”

Edelgard blushed, avoiding Byleth’s curious stare. “I’m just tired.” 

Byleth’s hand lingered on her head before she brought it down and tenderly pressed the back of her palm against Edelgard’s forehead. “Just tired? Your face is flushed… do you have a fever?” 

“No,” Edelgard insisted. Why did she choose now of all times to be observant? “I promise. I’m  _ fine.”  _

Byleth exhaled softly, unconvinced, and moved her hand to prop up Edelgard’s chin, forcing her to meet her narrowed eyes. Edelgard felt her face grow hotter as Byleth stared her down.  _ “I don’t believe you,” _ she muttered. The dark intensity of her voice made Edelgard’s breath catch in her throat. Once she dropped her hand, the glare in her eyes faded, softening once more as she relented. “But I will not force you to talk to me.” She nodded to the door. “Sylvain fetched Seteth for me, he should be waiting for us now in his office in the Audience Chamber.” 

“Us?” Edelgard echoed, regaining the ability to speak. 

Byleth nodded, frowning. “I wanted you to come with me. Is that okay?” 

Edelgard’s heart fluttered. She  _ wanted _ her. “Yes, of course,” she murmured. “I’ll go with you.”

Byleth led the way out of the office, passing the Black Eagles in the hall. “Get some sleep, everyone,” she ordered. “You’ve got the next week off from class. It’s well-earned.” 

The students cheered, running down the hall in celebration. Edelgard smiled as they passed her, keeping pace behind Byleth. A few days off sounded nice. After tonight, Edelgard felt like she could sleep for a moon. If only that were possible. 

In the night, the Audience Chamber glowed with an ethereal iridescence. Alabaster moonlight clashed with the kaleidoscopic stained glass, shining in a new array of color onto the mosaic tiles below. It was the first time Edelgard thought anything about the monastery looked beautiful. She admired the colorful glow as she followed Byleth, stunned into silence. A door near Lady Rhea’s throne remained propped open; orange candlelight flickered within. 

Byleth rapped at the face of the ajar door. “It’s me,” she said. 

“Enter.” Seteth’s voice did not sound sharp for once. It was as gentle as a leaf caught in a breeze. 

Entering, Edelgard stepped inside behind Byleth. Seteth waited for them, standing before his desk with his head bowed. His emerald green hair hid his eyes, but the worry lines creasing his face were more prominent than ever. In his clenched fist was a thick roll of parchment. 

“I am forever grateful to you,” he murmured. Raising his head, Edelgard was surprised to see that his eyes were reddened and swollen. Had he been crying? “Thank you for finding Flayn, for saving her. I don’t know what I would’ve done if she…” His voice grew thick, words dying in his throat. He sighed. “I am in your debt…” 

“I couldn’t have done it without my students.” The lack of emotion in Byleth’s voice seemed harsher than usual as she glared at Seteth, arms crossed. 

“Of course.” Seteth nodded to Edelgard in thanks. He was silent before he finally said, “I--I know I haven’t been fair to you, Professor.” Seteth’s fingers clenched around the papers trapped in his fist. “In truth, I was frightened by you, what you could become… But, now I understand. You would do anything to protect those in need. You have my sincerest apologies for ever doubting you.” 

Byleth was silent, but Edelgard felt her press close to her side. She glanced up at her curiously, shocked to see a glimmer of worry in her blue eyes. 

“This… report against you.” Seteth held up the roll of papers he wrinkled so severely in his clenched fist. Edelgard felt Byleth tense. “I issued it in hopes of getting a better understanding of who you are. I thought, maybe, if I could find the truth of your nature, I could keep the monastery safe.” There was a tear and he ripped the papers in two. “I was foolish. I never needed a piece of paper to tell me who you are. Your saving of Flayn spoke leagues beyond anything that could ever be written.”

Edelgard narrowed her eyes. Seteth revealed more than he knew. His concern of Byleth’s nature and motives only shed more light on the mystery. Even one of the highest ranking officials of the Church did not completely understand who or what she was. Only one woman entrusted the utmost most faith and power in Byleth, and that was Lady Rhea. If anyone knew who Byleth was and what she was capable of, it was her. The idea made Edelgard seethe. 

“I’m just happy she’s safe,” Byleth murmured. 

Seteth smiled. “As am I.” He tossed the torn report into a trash bin, chuckling ruefully. Taking a seat at his desk, he rubbed his temples with a tired sigh. “Thanks again, both of you, for bringing Flayn back to me. Have a good night.” 

Byleth and Edelgard bowed before they left Seteth’s office. Shutting the door behind them, they were left in the glowing light of the Audience Chamber. It was oddly peaceful. She sighed softly as they walked down the aisle of marble pillars. 

Walking by Byleth’s side, when only hours before she stood beneath the wake of her sword, felt surreal. In the dungeon, Byleth was everything Edelgard feared she would be. A heartless demon with an emotionless glare and a sword that hungered for Edelgard’s flesh. Yet, even as Byleth’s sword fell upon her, Edelgard still longed to be close to her. She did not want to walk alone, but hand-in-hand with the woman that had no heart to give. A fissure opened within her heart, forcing it to collapse on itself and leave a gaping hole in her chest. It all seemed so hopeless, so pointless, to want her, but to not want her was to not want air in her lungs or blood in her veins. How? Why? Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be her?  _ In the end, you want us all to be as tortured as you.  _ Death’s words echoed in her mind, making her smile sadly. No, she would not wish this torture on anyone.

Edelgard could not help but glance up at Byleth, as if that would give her some reprieve. Upon seeing her face, she froze.

“Professor…” 

Stopping, Byleth gazed down at her. The moonlight lit a blue flame in her eyes. Her features glowed in the night, but that was not what caused Edelgard to stop in her tracks. 

For the first time, Edelgard saw a smile on Byleth’s face. She looked like a completely different person. The woman fighting in the dungeon with a listless visage, the professor that lectured with a cold expression, both were gone and replaced with a smiling face that was so wonderful and beautiful it stole all sense from Edelgard’s mind. 

“Professor, is that a smile?” Edelgard asked, breathless. 

“Hm?” Byleth tilted her head, but the smile didn’t fade. The warmth in her gaze set Edelgard’s heart ablaze. “A what?”

“A smile.” Edelgard laughed softly, incredulously. “You look… happy.” 

“Is that what this feeling is?” Byleth shrugged, crossing her arms. Her smile broadened. “I guess… I guess I  _ am _ happy.” 

A woman without a heart could never smile so beautifully. It all felt like some cosmic joke. How could Edelgard ever hope to wrench her mind, body, and soul from the clutches of this woman when her very smile had the power to bring her to her knees? She wanted to laugh. She wanted to run away from her and never look back. Edelgard did not have the strength to manage either. So, instead, she asked, “Why are you happy?” 

Byleth pondered, resting her face on her hand. “I’m happy because… I get to stay with you and the rest of my students. For a while, I thought I wouldn’t be your teacher anymore. Now that I know that won’t change… I’m happy. I’m really happy.” 

Blushing, Edelgard felt her face hurt from smiling so wide. She managed to laugh again. “We really make you feel so?” 

“Yes.” Byleth nodded, smiling down at Edelgard. “You really do.” 

“You make me happy too.” 

Edelgard knew the words to be true as soon as she said them. Even as her inner voice warned of her heartlessness, even with the memory of Byleth’s sword crashing down on her shield, she felt happy. Seeing her smile chased all the ice from her heart and her bones and crushed all the worries that welled within. 

Byleth’s smile, maybe her first smile, was hers.

“Edelgard…” Byleth murmured. Her expression grew serious once more. The intensity in her eyes was not cold, instead, they held something Edelgard didn’t recognize. When she shut her eyes and sighed, the expression was gone, and her smile returned. “We should retire for the evening. It’s been a long day.” 

“It has,” Edelgard agreed. 

As they left the Audience Chamber, Edelgard felt like she had climbed a mountain. The stars were closer than ever. She could see them shining in Byleth. She wanted to touch them, to reach out and say,  _ Smile at me like that for a little while longer.  _

For now, the cruel sun seemed so far away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give it up for day two!   
> I always believed the Flame Emperor was a different persona from Edelgard based on how they behaved in-game. Of course, that's not confirmed in canon, but it made for a fun writing experience.  
> Hope you enjoyed.


	22. The Beast Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the recovery of the abducted Flayn, Edelgard and the rest of the Black Eagles enjoy a couple days off. Edelgard takes the time to learn more about the Academy's latest student, Monica, and her intentions. Upon seeing Byleth leave the monastery alone, Edelgard is inclined to follow her mysterious professor, unknowing of the events that would follow...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING!**  
>  This chapter contains scenes of graphic violence and gore.

“Why are you here?” 

Edelgard stirred her tea, disturbing the swirls of steam curling from its honey-gold surface. She glared at her guest across the table, and her guest glared back with eyes as red as the apple that she held in her hand. Even as her guest sat so innocently, she looked… strange. Her red eyes held an eerie glossy sheen, as if they were made from glass, and they were a little too sunken into her head. She looked more like a doll than a human; even as she tossed her apple to and fro from hand to hand, it looked too mechanical to be the motions of a young woman. 

“Why am I here?” Edelgard’s guest echoed in a purr. When she spoke, her eyes twinkled like a pair of rubies. “Now  _ that’s  _ a loaded question.” 

“Then give her a loaded answer,” Hubert growled. He sat beside Edelgard, face wrinkled with distaste. His clenched fist sat on the table, trembling slightly. His coffee remained untouched, forgotten and cold. 

The red-eyed girl yawned tiredly, shrugging, as if she could not be bothered with conversation. “Isn’t it obvious?” She rolled her tongue over her lips, wetting her sly smirk. “I’m here to graduate, just like you two.” 

Tapping her stirring spoon on the lip of her teacup, Edelgard exhaled slowly. Three days had come and gone since Flayn’s rescue, and the serpent they found coiled by her side was as troublesome as Edelgard feared. “Do not speak to me in riddles,  _ Monica,” _ Edelgard said, brows furrowed. “What is your mission while you ‘attend’ the Officers Academy? I know  _ they  _ gave you one.”

“Monica, ha, such a droll name.” She chuckled dryly, rolling her glossy eyes. She gazed into her reflection that gleamed in the red apple skin. “Are all teenagers this tired all the time? No matter how much I sleep, I feel like it’s never enough. This is such a pesky body to inhabit…” 

Hubert slammed his fist on the table, causing the cups to tremble. “Answer the question, you snake!” 

“Hubert,” Edelgard warned calmly, taking a sip of her tea.

“My, my, your guard dog is lively this morning,” Monica mused, eyes narrowing at Hubert. Her words held a gentle hiss as she leaned across the table to whisper conspiratorially, “I’m here to help you.” 

“What makes you think I need helping?” Edelgard asked. She did not recede from Monica’s closeness, even as her pupils narrowed into slits menacingly. 

“Oh, Edel, we know how trying it is for you to keep up this ‘student’ ruse. For you to stoop so low and walk among this herd of beasts... I can only imagine how  _ exhausting _ it is.” Monica took a bite of her red apple, pupils returning to normal. Sweet-smelling juice rippled from its torn skin, dripping off her chin. “You were always destined to be above them, it’s in your blood, your nature… I’ll never understand why Thales thought it’d be best for you to attend this wretched school.”

“It was my idea,” Edelgard grated. She glared across the table at Monica, feeling her patience being pulled so thin it was almost transparent. “It was the easiest way for me to get inside access to this place and learn its day-to-day functions. We couldn’t rely on ‘Tomas.’ They keep him cooped up in that library too long.”

Monica tapped her lips, considering Edelgard’s words. Her curling smile returned. “You really are as calculated as they say.” She giggled. “I am so eager to work with you.”

“That makes one of us,” Edelgard said.

“Now that your Death Knight has been unmasked, you’ll need my services now more than ever,” Monica pointed out.

“Death Knight’s identity would still be safe had your lot not sent him on that reckless escapade,” Hubert seethed. “You do realize the entire monastery is up in arms now after that stunt you pulled with Flayn?”

“Ha! You speak as if that brilliant plan was my idea! You know I’m not the brains of the organization.” Monica’s tongue slithered out of her lips leeringly, and she hissed, “I’m the  _ fangs.” _

Setting her teacup down, Edelgard sighed. “So, am I right to assume you haven’t the slightest idea what they intend to do with Flayn’s blood?” 

“I don’t have an inkling.” Something about the impish gleam in her eye made Edelgard feel like she was lying. Leaning back in her chair, Monica took another bite of her apple, smiling as pleasantly as a viper. “This is going to be the start of a beautiful relationship. To think, I have the honor of serving alongside  _ our savior. _ With me at your disposal, you shan’t worry about that pesky new pet of Rhea’s.”

Edelgard knew she spoke of Byleth. Her nerves recoiled at the thought of her slithering counterparts confronting her teacher. She wondered how much they knew and how far they were willing to go to learn more. Edelgard only vaguely filled them in on Byleth’s true strength; they were bound to be hungry for more. It made her skin crawl off her flesh and shrivel to think that Byleth may be their next target. She had a sinking feeling that’s who they were after. Edelgard resigned herself to do everything in her power to keep Byleth safe; for now, she knew her teacher would bring her no harm. In exchange, it was the least she could do to keep her out of their clutches.

“For now, all I want for you to do is keep a low profile and attend your classes just like any other student. When I have use for you, I’ll let you know,” Edelgard decided, giving Monica an icy stare. “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Clear as crystal. Attending classes with you will certainly be entertaining.” Monica winked. She reached for her tea, which had gone cold from neglect. Tea leaves floated on its murky surface, having been steeped sloppily. Monica played her stirring spoon against the bits of leaves, smiling as she disturbed them. Suddenly, she asked, “You do realize the dangers of that professor of yours, yes?”

“Of course I do,” Edelgard snapped, feeling her heart sink to her stomach. “Why do you think I’ve been keeping such a close eye on her?” 

A knowing smile flickered across Monica’s freckled face. “Then, you must know of her weaknesses?” 

Edelgard felt Hubert’s gaze on her, silently urging caution. She polished her resolve and fixed Monica with a glare. “I’ve yet to find a weakness in her,” she admitted, steely. 

“Well, that does not mean she doesn’t have one!” Monica purred. “Oh, this will be fun! Such fun! We can find out together.”

“There won’t be anything to find out,” Edelgard said. “I already gave you your orders. It’s too soon for you to be snooping about. For now, you’re just another student.”

“Boring…” Monica crossed her arms as her bottom lip puckered into a pout. Heaving a sigh, she shrugged. “Very well, your wish is my command, Your Highness.” 

“We’re done here,” Edelgard decided, nodding curtly to Monica. “You may leave me.” 

Monica rose from her chair with an air of mischief, leaving her untouched tea and half-eaten apple on the table. “Farewell, my new friends. Remember, I’m at your service.” 

The red snake slithered from the cover of the gazebo and turned around the hedge to join the students passing down the cobblestone walkway. Though she looked and walked and talked like any other Academy attendee, Edelgard knew better. The streamlike fluidity of her steps, the odd gleam in her glossy eyes, and the way her lips curled so unnaturally when she smiled, it all begot a demon in the flesh. The unease was potent enough to make Edelgard’s insides curdle.

“Hubert,” Edelgard murmured once Monica disappeared into the crowd. “I want you to keep a close eye on her.” 

“You don’t trust her.” It was not a question. The eager lilt in Hubert’s voice reminded her of a hound about to be unleashed on a hunt. 

“Not at all. It’s become clear to me that I cannot leave our slithering allies to their own devices. I don’t know what they’re planning, but… I don’t want to wait and find out.” If Edelgard gripped her porcelain cup any tighter, it would shatter. “When the opportunity arises, I’ll confront Thales and figure out what he’s planning. Until that happens, I want you to shadow her.” 

Hubert arose, smiling devilishly. Giving Edelgard a deep bow, he vowed, “Your Highness, your faith in me will not go to waste.” He began to stack the dishes of their tea and coffee back onto the silver tray at the center of the table. He grimaced as he touched Monica’s apple. 

“Go now,” Edelgard ordered, taking one last sip of her tea before setting it on the tray for Hubert to collect. 

With a nod, Hubert left the gazebo, leaving Edelgard alone at the table. She heaved a sigh, rubbing her forehead. The inferno of chaos that was Flayn’s abduction petered out days ago, but the smoke of its pyre still remained. It made it hard for Edelgard to breathe. Losing the Death Knight and gaining a snake was like trading an axe for a butter knife; how could she cleave anything with that? Thankfully, Byleth paused their classes for the week; Edelgard was not sure how she would endure attending lectures with Monica, but at least she had time to mentally prepare. 

Edelgard decided to revel in the autumn morning as she regained her composure. The crisp morning air of the Horsebow Moon smelled of cloves and cinnamon. Throughout the monastery, the fruits of the earth were celebrated, for Sothis blessed the fields with plenty. Gourds of green and orange and squashes with bumpy skin lined the sidewalks, advertising the spoils of Fodlan’s Great Harvest. Dried out grape vines woven into wreaths adorned the walls and halls, symbols of the flourishing grape arbors of the Empire. Baskets of apples from the Kingdom were distributed in abundance, and the residents of Garreg Mach flocked to the marketplace to reap the bushels of green, red, and gold. Students took to crafting in their spare time, using corn husks to weave into toy dolls while they sat on warm woolen quilts beneath the trees and their burning leaves. 

Edelgard kicked at her axe that sat beside her. She had no plans with anyone today nor any intention to partake in the arts and crafts the idle students enjoyed. Plucking her weapon and returning it to the strap on her back, she resigned herself to train. She was already dressed in her Lord uniform, armor and all; she only lacked a helpless target to sink her axe into. It was the catharsis she needed. 

Joining the flux of passing students and priests, she eyed the excess of soldiers standing watch at every other crossway. Rhea wasted no time in implementing higher security measures as her knights gradually returned from the western inquisition. They stood as still as statues, watching the students and priests pass by, waiting for any excuse to unsheathe their weapons. Edelgard felt her nerves prickle as she met their eyes. She wondered how many priests they burned. 

A distinct fissure in the crowd caught Edelgard’s attention. She knew only one woman that could make such a rift in a mess of people. Sure enough, Byleth was cutting through swiftly, dressed in full armor and armed with her Relic. Edelgard watched with interest as she peeled through the courtyard purposefully. “Where could she be in a hurry to?” Edelgard wondered under her breath. 

With a keen smirk, Edelgard decided to follow. She needed to stay close to Byleth now that a snake slithered in the grass. It was for her own safety. Weaseling through the crowd, Edelgard hurried down the steps that descended from the Main Gate, careful to keep a cautious distance between her and Byleth. Before long she was in the marketplace at the mouth of Garreg Mach, where the air smelled of roasted pumpkin and candied apples. 

“Hey, you!” growled a soldier on guard. “Where do you think you’re going? It’s not the weekend. Lord or not, students aren’t allowed outside Garreg Mach during school hours.” 

Edelgard’s smile quickly faded when she was stuck before two knights. They eyed her suspiciously from their half helms, frowning. The growling one had teeth as yellow as the corn cobs being sold on skewers around them. “I understand,” Edelgard murmured, swallowing her annoyance as she watched Byleth fade into the village behind them. “But, you see, I have official business to attend to in town, and I must go through.”

“Official business, eh?” The growler nudged his lizard-looking comrade, snorting. “Never heard that one before. You highborns ain’t that creative, it seems. Too used to having those beneath you come up with everything, huh?”

Restraining the urge to roll her eyes, Edelgard placed her hand on her hip and let the knights dig their hole deeper. 

The lizard-looking one chuckled with a sneer, “Betcha she thought that fancy Lordling uniform of hers would be her ticket outta here.” 

“Actually, my ticket out of here just passed you by,” Edelgard corrected with a pleasant smile. “I’m sure you noticed her? She has the Sword of the Creator on her hip? A black overcoat? You might know her as Professor Byleth, Captain Jeralt’s daughter.” 

The knights exchanged an uneasy glance. It was the growler that spoke first, “Why’d your chaperone leave without you?”

They were smarter than they looked, that was certain. Edelgard sighed impatiently. “I forgot my necklace,” she explained, pulling the Goddess Icon from her neck. The lies flowed from her lips as effortlessly as water down a stream. “It’s my good luck charm, you see. I can’t go anywhere without it.” 

The knights pondered, looking equally miffed. 

With a frown, Edelgard urged, “My teacher doesn't like to be kept waiting. She won’t be happy about coming all the way back here to retrieve me.” Her tone grew more polite, though she wretched inside at the thought of using her charm on these men. She placed her hand on the growler’s arm, smiling up at him sweetly. “I’d be ever so grateful if you let me through. You wouldn’t punish a girl for wanting to keep the goddess close, would you?”

From under his half helm, she saw his stubbled face grow red, and she smiled wider, squeezing his forearm as she went in for the kill. “Please?” she begged softly. 

Clearing his throat, the knight relented, nodding to her. “Very well,” he grumbled, yielding with a half-smile. “Just, uh… remember to stay close to your chaperone next time.” 

“What now?” The lizard-looking knight grunted, gawking at his brother-in-arms.

“Thank you, sir.” Edelgard dipped her head, giving him a wink. She needed to leave before the effects of her charm faded. “I’ll remember your kindness.” 

The knights’ gazes burned into her from behind as she left the monastery. If Edelgard was lucky, she would never have to see them again and relive that embarrassing display. Her face burned at the thought of that desperate interaction, and it was all in an effort to get closer to Byleth.  _ Why am I so pathetic?  _

As she walked the streets of Garreg Mach Proper, she was astounded by the overflow of autumn cheer. Children ran through the streets, carrying with them pumpkins for carving. Passing a window, she saw an elderly woman dipping candles to be sold; the wax smelled of cinnamon and apples. Men and women gathered in the streets; some carried massive baskets of golden wheat from the fields, while others had carts full of pelts from the seasonal hunt. Among all the harvest colors of red, orange, and gold, she could not find the blue and black she pined for. Frustration arose within her as she reflected on her foolishness. This was a mistake. 

Before she could return to Garreg Mach in defeat, she found Byleth again, only, she was much further than Edelgard anticipated. At the edge of town, she left for the woods with as much urgency as before. Edelgard’s heart fluttered eagerly as her chase resumed. Without hesitation, she rushed through the center of Garreg Mach proper where the merchants gathered, wanting nothing more than to get closer to Byleth. She did not even stop to question her desire, she only acted on it recklessly as the beast within her grew hungrier.

The forest flanking Garreg Mach was aflame. Every leaf succumbed to the warm colors of fall, glittering with specks of white frost that the sun did not have the strength to melt. Edelgard was taken by the crimson glow of the canopy overhead and marveled at the glistening sheen of ice against the dark tree bark. The leaves beneath her boots crunched rhythmically with every step. She felt strangely at ease as she walked alone through the forest, following Byleth’s footprints. The deeper she ventured, the redder and brighter the forest became. What could Byleth be doing so deep in the woods? 

Edelgard narrowed her eyes suspiciously as the ground beneath her turned from fallen leaves to frosted stone. She gazed ahead, seeing the hardwood trees give way to evergreens with dark green needles that were dusted with white. The path yawned before her, opening into a drop that led to a canyon swathed in clouds below. Her heart sank. Zanado, the Red Canyon, of all places? Why would Byleth come here? 

Hugging her crossed arms closer to her chest, Edelgard considered turning around. The gray clouds hid the jagged peaks of the canyon, but they did not hide the dangers. What would she do when she reached Byleth, anyway? She rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. Clearly, Byleth was on some intense training escapade. Interrupting her would make no sense. She kicked a rock, sending it rattling over the edge of the cliff, sighing sadly. Edelgard allowed herself to be so blinded by her desire to be close to Byleth, she never stopped to think what would happen when she finally reached her. 

“I’m an idiot,” Edelgard mumbled, turning around from the decline that led to Zanado. 

It was not until she was among the hardwood trees again that she heard the roar. 

Edelgard stopped in her tracks, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The beastly noise echoed through the trees, coming from the direction of the Red Canyon. Her eyes widened in horror.  _ Byleth.  _ Unleashing her axe from its strap, Edelgard turned back around and ran for the canyon. The roaring grew louder, becoming a blood-chilling howl by the time she reached the edge of Zanado. Though she could not see Byleth through the thick layer of clouds, she could see the massive silhouette of a beast running through the canyon. 

Panting, Edelgard jumped over the edge, sliding down the rock face of the cliff that led to the canyon, uncaring of the fangs of grit and stone that grated against her legs. She rolled to a defensive stance as she stood at the beginning of Zanado. The stench of blood was ripe in the air. Edelgard felt her insides churn in fear as her eyes desperately sought for Byleth in the thick fog. It was as if the clouds descended from the sky to linger between the jagged bones of the ancient city. The howls were piercing now, and Edelgard felt dread settle uncomfortably in her veins when she realized there was more than one beast nearby. 

Breaking into a sprint, Edelgard rushed through the canyon. The echo of her footsteps was drowned by the growls and barks of the beasts. Her heart pounded in her ears when she crossed her first corpse. It was a massive creature, as big as a building, with mane as black as night and eyes as red as the blood that spilled from the wound in its neck. Its lips were still curled in a snarl, revealing teeth as long and sharp as a sword. It was a Giant Wolf.  _ No, no, no… _ Edelgard had trouble swallowing. She ran faster, desperately searching for Byleth among the crumbling towers and forgotten cloisters.

When Edelgard found Byleth, she thought the world would give from beneath her feet. Edelgard watched her below from atop the edge of a cliff. Three wolves surrounded her, snarling and snapping. Blood poured from the old shoulder wound that Death had given her, and she clutched at her chest with a pained expression. One lunged, snapping at Byleth, only to yelp as she brought her Relic down against its maw. As she fought off one wolf, another clawed at her side, cutting into the flesh not shielded by her armor. 

All Edelgard could think about was Byleth’s smile as she rushed forward. The way it made her knees feel weak. How it made her heart sing. She couldn’t lose it. Not yet. Edelgard jumped from the ledge, shouting, as she brought her axe down on the third Giant Wolf before it could lunge for Byleth. The beast howled as her axe cleaved into its hind, turning on her with a snarl. Her heart pounded excitedly as she glared into the red eyes of the creature. 

“Edelgard?” Byleth panted, bewildered. She gazed at her from over the haunches of the prowling beasts. 

Edelgard smiled, rolling out of the way of the jaws of the wolf, coming to stand beside her. “This training is a little much even for you, isn’t it?” she teased. 

Byleth frowned. “How did you… Nevermind.” She readied her sword, glaring at the wolves. 

“Wait,” Edelgard murmured, reaching for the pack on her hip, quickly retrieving a concoction. “Your shoulder.” 

“We don’t have time,” Byleth insisted. 

With a slash, Byleth sent the Sword of the Creator swinging into a charging wolf; its outstretched blade looked like a solar flare as it cut into the beast’s chest, burning into its black fur. The second continued its charge, forcing Edelgard to jump out of the way. When she looked back, she was horrified to see its fangs sink into Byleth’s leg, pulling her savagely. Heat flickered from Edelgard’s palms as she sent Fire blazing into the beast’s face; it cried out as the blaze scorched its skin, releasing Byleth from its jaws. 

Before Edelgard could recover, her legs were pulled out from beneath her as another wolf’s claws raked at her ankles. She fell with a grunt, cursing as her axe to spin out from her grasp. She turned, gazing up in terror as the massive wolf stood over her. Foul-smelling saliva dripped from its yellowed fangs. Gritting her teeth, she summoned a blast of Fire from her fingertips, sending the wolf rearing backwards, howling in pain. The very ground shook with every step the beast made. Rising to her feet, Edelgard winced as pain rocked through her legs. She noticed Byleth limp as well; the bite wound on her leg hemorrhaged into a puddle at her feet. Grabbing her axe, she ran for Byleth, panting heavily. 

“Will you just let me help you?” Edelgard snapped, reaching for her concoction once more. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Byleth mumbled, wincing as Edelgard poured the healing potion onto her wounded leg. 

“Are you going to send me away?” Edelgard challenged. She grabbed her teacher’s arm, pulling her down so she could pour a second concoction onto her reopened shoulder wound. 

“How many of those do you have left?” Byleth asked, eyeing the wolves that circled them wearily. 

“Just one after this,” Edelgard murmured, examining the wound as it clotted. “And I have a vulenary.”

Byleth grabbed her hand that held the concoction, squeezing it before she pushed it away. “Don’t use those on me. Save them for yourself.”

“But--” 

“That’s an order,” Byleth said. 

Without giving Edelgard a chance to protest, Byleth met a charging wolf, the one whose jaw she slashed earlier. Its blood red eyes glinted as Byleth brought her Relic down into its shoulder, making it yelp in pain. As the second wolf with the burned face snapped at Byleth, Edelgard outstretched her hand with a glare; a fissure split beneath the burnt wolf, hissing with magma as the magic of Bolganone took hold. She smiled as it fell to the heat, enjoying the sight of its flesh melting away against the flames. 

A piercing howl ripped through the air from the third wolf; it was more guttural than before, deeper than thunder and louder than an avalanche. It left Edelgard’s ears ringing and put her blood on ice. She glowered at the monster, summoning her Fire in her palm as it glared down at her with a growl. She stood fearlessly in the shadow of the behemoth, even as it charged at her. A blazing comet of Fire whistled for the wolf, but the wolf jumped over it, landing before Edelgard with a snarl. Edelgard stumbled backwards, cursing as she saw its fangs bite at her. 

The Sword of the Creator lashed at the wolf’s muzzle, digging into it and sending blood raining at Edelgard’s feet. She glanced sideways, seeing Byleth glaring at the wolf, panting heavily. Even from afar, Edelgard could see her legs trembling. She remembered seeing Byleth in a similar state against the demonic beast at Conand Tower and felt her chest tighten uncomfortably. What was wrong with her?

Despite her growing weakness, Byleth ran for the wolf. She was expressionless even as the wounds in her flesh left a trail of blood behind her. With a shout, she brought her sword down onto the neck of the Giant Wolf that snapped at Edelgard. Fur and flesh and blood ripped from from the wolf’s neck as Byleth’s sword decapitated it in one clean blow. Steam rose from the gored remains of the wolf, filling the air with the putrid reek of death. Edelgard gawked at the detached beast head that still glared at her, jaws held wide. 

“Are you unhurt?” Byleth asked breathlessly, running to Edelgard’s side. She took her hand and helped her to her feet. 

Edelgard laughed incredulously, gazing down at the headless corpse and its departed head. “I’m fine,” she assured her, panting. “What about you?” 

Byleth glared ahead at the last remaining wolf, watching it pace before them with a clenched jaw. The expression, or lack thereof, on her face reminded Edelgard of the Ashen Demon she encountered in the dungeon only days prior. She shivered, but not from the cold. When Byleth finally gazed down at Edelgard, her heart stopped. A reassuring smile erased the coldness of her expression, and she said, “Remember? When you are strong, I am strong.” 

Edelgard’s happiness was short-lived, for the earth beneath them trembled. She gasped, glancing around wildly for the cause. “What was that?”

The last remaining wolf stilled, emitting a guttural howl from its throat that sounded a lot like the one its now-decapitated comrade emitted earlier. From the dense fog, a black wolf emerged, blotting out the pale sun with its mass. It dwarfed the remaining Giant Wolf in size and might. Muscles rippled beneath its dark pelt and scars of past battles laced its enormous frame. It had one bulging white eye; the other had been gouged from its socket long ago. 

Beside her, Byleth readied her Relic, glaring at the new beast coldly. Edelgard noticed her arms trembling and frowned. “Professor, you’re shaking,” she murmured. 

Byleth flashed her with a glare and muttered in monotone, “It’s nothing.” 

There was no time to dwell on Byleth’s waning strength, for the smaller of the Giant Wolves was running at them, fangs bared. The sound of its claws grating against the stone made Edelgard wince. Whatever it took, she had to keep Byleth out of the fight. She stood before her teacher, arms raised and shaking as she conjured Bolganone once more, splitting the earth between them. Magma belched from the crevice, igniting the wolf as it charged forward; it doubled over with a yelp, crashing into the sweltering heat of the fissure. Edelgard felt her blood sing as yet another beast fell before her. A strange giddiness rose within her. Fighting alongside Byleth, protecting her, it made Edelgard realize it did not matter how many enemies she amassed, so long as they were together.

Seeing Byleth race through the flames, a blur of a shadow against a wall of red, Edelgard felt her heart leap after her. The tremble in her arms, the pain she had in her expression only moments before, it all pointed to Byleth’s strength fading, yet she still dove into the fray. What moved this woman to fight so fiercely? Why did she risk her life so haplessly? Edelgard could not wait to find out. Instead, she ran after her professor, jumping through the fire that remained from her black magic, only to see Byleth clashing with the behemoth of a wolf before them. Its paw could crush her with a single step. When it roared, the cliffs surrounding them trembled, dribbling pebbles from their lips. As Byleth sabred her Relic into the wolf’s shoulder, it snapped, swatting its paw into her and sending her flying into the shambles of what used to be a building. Dust and stones rose up from the impact, but Byleth did not. 

“No…” Edelgard stared into the rubble, feeling her heart crumble with it. “Byleth!” 

Upon crying out her name, Edelgard caught the beast’s attention. It licked its lips, growling lowly at her. Edelgard gripped her axe, meeting its gaze with gritted teeth. She did not recoil as it ran to her. Instead, she waited, breathing calmly as it sprang for her. She jumped, narrowly missing the snap of its jaws, only to gag as one of its fangs hooked into the gilded half-armor protecting her chest, bringing it up to her chin. The beast shook her viciously, breaking the plate trapped within its fangs; she rolled free of her destroyed armor, panting as she gripped at her throat. She was unable to recover for long, for soon the beast’s claws dug into her back, pulling her to its waiting fangs. She cried out as her skin ripped beneath her pelice, sending blood raining down her sides. Screwing her eyes shut, she told herself,  _ No, it won’t end this way. You’ve come too far to die now.  _ Squeezing her axe, she turned, slashing it across the wolf’s paw. It hissed in pain, releasing her. When the monster lunged again, Edelgard was ready, even as blood poured from the gashes in her back; she rolled once more, avoiding the beast’s fangs, and stood beneath its neck. 

She smiled. 

Metal met flesh and tore, bathing Edelgard in blood. It showered from the red crescent she carved in the sky of black fur. The feeling of it soaking her skin and the sound of the mighty beast’s roar made her blood come alive in her veins. Her heart hammered against her ribs, ready to burst from her chest as it sent blood pulsing through her body. The inferno within her broke from her skin in a white hot beacon of light, radiating the power of her second Crest. The Crest of Flames. It seared through her, cauterising all sense of self she had left as it surged to the aid of her open wounds. Her blazing blood bound her broken flesh until she bled no more. 

Edelgard felt like she swallowed the sun. Her devouring of its light engulfed her being and set her soul aflame. It burned deliciously. She feasted.  _ More. More. More. _ Her axe obliged her hunger. It hacked at the beast relentlessly, sending flesh and blood flying into her, hot as embers. The liquid fire of the beast’s lifeblood fed her, but it was not enough to satiate her hunger. It only grew. The axehead came down again. Again. Again.  _ More. More. More.  _

Crimson became her sight, fire her light. A voice within Edelgard whimpered its warning, unheard.  _ If you continue this way, you’ll turn to ash,  _ it said. Edelgard did not heed the warning. A darkness, a shadow, inside her soul wished to be burned. She found herself longing to feel the fire kiss her skin and lose herself in the heat of it. 

Flames licked into sight from the corner of her eyes. Bursting, they roared with rage far greater than any beast. The heat poured into Edelgard, burning her. These flames were real. They were not her own. She thought she heard her name, but it sounded worlds away. _ Edelgard! _ It called her away from the blaze, and she stepped backward. The voice was familiar. Edelgard wondered where she would go if she fell back into the sound of her name. Would it catch her? Or seal her fate?

_ Edelgard!  _

Something, no, someone pulled her from the face of the fire. As she fell into their arms, the world darkened from red to black. 

When she opened her eyes again, the sky was a blur, smearing before her. Trees faded into smudges of green and brown on either side of her. Her body wasn’t moving, yet the world around her was. Her eyes tried to focus as her stomach churned. She felt arms wrapped around her, holding her. Edelgard mumbled, trying to speak, but nothing came. Her hand reached for the face of the woman carrying her against her chest. She had eyes as cold as ice and as deep and blue as the ocean. 

“Byleth?” Edelgard whispered. 

“Hold on a little longer,” Byleth said. Her voice sounded far away. 

Edelgard shut her eyes again.

Then, she woke to the crackle of flames. The air smelled of smoke and burnt pine. She stretched her hands out, feeling the thick fur of a bear pelt beneath her. She was laying on her stomach.  _ What happened?  _ Pushing herself up, she felt her sleeve roll off her shoulder, exposing her chest to the cool air. She grabbed at the fabric, bringing it tight against her. The armor on her legs was cast aside, laying beside the pelt she awoke on; only her stockings remained, and the skin beneath felt bruised and raw. Edelgard gazed down, realizing the coat was not her own. Its dark fabric and white stitching smelled of lavender and chamomile even with the splashes of blood and smudges of ash covering it. It was Byleth’s overcoat.

“You’re awake.” Byleth sat before a sizzling bonfire, prodding it with a stick. When she gazed at her, Edelgard thought she saw a glint of fear in her eyes. 

“What happened?” Edelgard rubbed her temples. The battle came back in flashes of teeth and echoes of a bone-chilling roar. 

“You… exhausted yourself. You lost a lot of blood.” Byleth prodded at the fire again, sending embers to flicker into the sky. In the mouth of the fire, Edelgard saw her clothes burning. She blushed, becoming conscious of only her smallclothes remaining beneath Byleth’s overcoat. Byleth noticed her chagrin, frowning. “Sorry. Your uniform was in tatters by the time I got to you. There was no mending it.” 

“It’s… it’s fine.” Edelgard winced as she sat. The wound on her back dug at her nerves. It felt raw and angry. “And the beasts?” She glanced around wildly. Beyond the forest they sought shelter in, she saw columns of smoke blackening the sky. 

“Dead. All of them. They’re burning now.” Byleth’s armor was blackened with ash. Up to her elbows, she was slickened with the beasts’ blood. She looked like a war god; her muscles still rippled and twitched from the battle. Her knuckles still burned white. Streaks of red and smudges of cinder covered her face like she emerged from a pyre, born again. She turned her glare on Edelgard. “Why did you come?”

_ “Why?” _ Edelgard grimaced. “You should be thankful that I did. What were you thinking, coming out here alone?” 

Byleth shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I do. If I wish to leave the monastery grounds, that’s my business.” 

“Oh, so taking a leisurely stroll through Zanado and fighting beasts is just your way of passing time?” Edelgard’s blood still burned hot from battle. It fueled her words with moxie and heat. 

“It doesn’t matter… I didn’t get the answers I wanted.” Byleth’s voice was deep like rumbling thunder, holding in her rage. “You could’ve been killed, do you realize that? How could you be so foolish?”

Edelgard snorted. “I could say the same to you. Had I not come, you’d be…” Edelgard couldn’t even say it. The thought of her dying severed words from her tongue. She shook her head, glaring at Byleth. “Do you remember what you told me all those moons ago? No one enters the battlefield alone.”

Byleth stiffened, staring into the flames. She squeezed her eyes shut and relented icily, “I’m sorry. I put us both in danger… all for…” She hissed, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“No. It  _ does _ matter.” Edelgard gazed at Byleth, seeing distress wrinkle her brow. For her to come out to Zanado alone… there had to be more than she was letting on. “Something is bothering you. Tell me.” 

Byleth glared at her from where she sat. There was a storm of emotion in her eyes. Quietly, she left the bonfire and sat on the pelt beside Edelgard. Her hand slowly reached for her neck, making Edelgard freeze. Her thumb traced along her throat as her fingers wrapped around the string of her necklace. With a tug, she broke it from her neck, letting the wooden Goddess Icon dangle between them. 

_ “This.  _ This is bothering me,” she said. 

Edelgard gazed at the figurine in confusion. “I… I am afraid I don’t understand.”

“The voice, the someone in my head, she looks like _ this.” _ The desperation in Byleth’s voice was new to Edelgard. Her eyes gleamed with fear and anger and confusion. The tempest of emotions in her thundered into her voice. “I had to know, no,  _ we _ had to know. Is… is the Goddess inside me? Is her name Sothis? Why? How?” Byleth glared at something far away. “We came here for answers and found nothing. I almost got us killed.”

“Hey…” Edelgard murmured softly. She brought her hand to her cheek, gently guiding her face so she may look into her eyes. She saw fear there. Edelgard held either side of her face, bringing her forehead to touch hers. Whatever voice took residence inside Byleth’s head was a part of her. No matter how otherworldly or impossible it seemed, Edelgard found that she could not dismiss it. 

The idea of Sothis being within Byleth was more terrifying than it was preposterous. Edelgard could not help but think that it had something to do with her missing heart; the mysteries swaddling the woman before her only made her more dangerous. Yet, she found herself moved to comfort her; her fingertips stroked her cheekbones as she kept their foreheads pressed together. Edelgard could feel herself being torn in two by her feelings, and it was more painful than the wounds gouging her back.

“We don’t usually find answers where we expect to. Whatever it is you seek, I believe with all my heart you will find it,” Edelgard murmured.

Byleth shut her eyes, sighing shakily. “I would never forgive myself if I got you killed _.” _

Edelgard had to pull away then. Their closeness, the softness of her voice, the vulnerability in her eyes, it invited her in. She wanted Byleth, even with the stench of blood and burning flesh in the air. Even with the sting of her wounds grating her back. Even with the prospect of the goddess being instilled within her. Adrenaline continued to burn white hot in her veins, begging to be expelled into something, someone. 

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Byleth asked. Her emotionlessness returned; she was as cold as the frost glittering around them. 

“Everyone's a little crazy.” Edelgard smiled playfully.  _ After all, I’m crazy enough to want to be with you. _

After a break of silence, Byleth murmured, “Turn around.”

Edelgard did as she was told, careful to keep Byleth’s overcoat tight around her shoulders. She felt Byleth’s careful hand sweep her white hair over her shoulder. She shivered as the icy air licked at the back of her neck. Byleth’s hands wrapped around her, bringing her necklace up to her collarbone. She reclasped it, fingers hovering against her skin. Heat flickered like flames inside Edelgard, aching to be doused by Byleth’s touch. 

Byleth tugged gently at the sleeves of the overcoat, letting the cloth drop down Edelgard’s shoulders, exposing her chest and back. “What are you doing?” Edelgard asked in a whisper, thankful her blush was hidden.

“Checking your wounds,” Byleth said. The seriousness in her voice made Edelgard feel foolish. Of course she was tending to her injuries. What else would she be doing?

Tracing along her back, Edelgard felt Byleth’s fingertips outline the gashes in her. It was easy to ignore the pain when she had the pleasure of feeling Byleth. “This is my fault,” Byleth murmured.

“I chose to follow you. I chose to fight with you,” Edelgard whispered. She would choose Byleth for as long as she could.

White light flickered behind her as Byleth summoned her healing magic. Her hands glided over her angry wounds, soothing them. It felt like ice poured into her, mending her flesh. She shivered. 

“When you were fighting that last wolf, after it struck you… I saw a light,” Byleth said. 

Edelgard remembered. The light, the heat, it flooded her body. It was the power of her second Crest that took hold. The Crest of Flames. It may have saved her, but the root of its existence was rotted with blood and pain; she could never be grateful for it. 

“I was using magic,” Edelgard lied. “That’s what caused the flash.” 

“There was so much blood soaking your clothes.” Byleth’s voice sounded far away. 

“Most of it was not my own, I assure you.” The softer Byleth’s voice became, the harder it was for Edelgard to lie.The white light faded as Byleth’s healing session ended. Edelgard could feel her stare at the wounds in her back. “How do I look?” she asked. 

“You’ll have scars, but you will heal.” Byleth’s hands traced along the wounds again. They did not sting as bad as before, but the pain lingered. “Thank you, Edelgard.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.” Byleth brought the overcoat back over Edelgard’s shoulders. “You’re right. Had you not come, I would be dead.”

Edelgard smiled. “Is your voice, that someone in your head, grateful as well?”

“She said you’re a delinquent for breaking school rules, but yes, she’s grateful.”

“Delinquent?” Laughing, she turned to show Byleth her smile. 

Edelgard’s expression made Byleth’s blue eyes widen. She stared down at her hands. “You never answered my question. Why did you follow me? You said you chose to follow me and you chose to fight with me, but, why?”

How could she answer that? If she was honest about her feelings, would that make Byleth want to stay? Would that change how she felt when she learned the truth? A web of secrets and lies tangled between them, ready to trap the other and make them suffer. If Edelgard decided to walk the fine line between her feelings and her ambitions, where would it take her? Where would she fall?

“I wanted to be by your side,” Edelgard admitted painfully. 

Edelgard placed her hand on the side of Byleth’s face, rubbing her thumb against a smudge of ash. It smeared against her touch. Byleth’s eyes met her own, unflinching even in their closeness. Her mind was swimming and her blood was still hot with the heat of battle.  _ The beast is what caused this, _ she thought. The wall Edelgard carefully built between them thinned into a sheer veil, waiting to be pierced. It drifted before her alluringly, a curtain in the breeze that could easily be torn away to reveal the view she ached for. Her head grappled helplessly for sense, but it slipped through her fingers like ash, dust.

“What are you doing?” Byleth rasped. Even as she asked, Byleth’s body already seemed to know the answer. She reached for Edelgard, pushing back the white hair that spilled across her face. Her blue eyes searched her own, unknowingly tempting Edelgard to come closer.

It was easier for Edelgard to act on her desires when her head wasn’t in the way. It was somewhere in the clouds now, lost in its search for sense. It shouted down at her, out of earshot.

Edelgard’s breath shivered against Byleth’s lips. “Can I… get closer to you?”

Edelgard’s desire reared its head within her, ready to charge into her with reckless abandon. Edelgard shut her eyes and ran with it. Their lips touched, gentle and unsure. Byleth stiffened against her, but Edelgard melted. Carefully, Edelgard leaned into the kiss, wrapping her hand around the back of Byleth’s head. She never knew a woman’s lips could be so soft. She only wanted a taste, just one, and she would never kiss her again. 

When their kiss broke, they stared into one another’s eyes, awed by the touch of the other.

“I’m… I shouldn’t have done that,” Edelgard stammered.

Byleth’s breath felt warm against her face. Her hands held either side of her head, gently bringing Edelgard closer. She brushed her lips against hers, careful and curious. Edelgard‘s breath caught in her throat. Byleth pressed her lips against hers, tasting her. Edelgard sighed into the kiss.  _ She returned it. She really kissed me back.  _ Edelgard reclined in sweet surrender as she pressed against her. Byleth’s arms moved down to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer as Edelgard braced herself with her hands splayed against the pelt beneath them. 

The kiss soon transformed into something more desperate. Byleth’s lips tasted of ash and blood, but Edelgard was only hungrier for it. Her skin was sticky with sweat and the sap from the evergreens she tore through to build the fire, but she only wanted to touch her more. The sting of her wounds was lost in the pleasure pulsing through her body. She shivered as she learned the shape of Byleth’s lips. 

To her surprise, or rather, demise, Byleth pulled her even closer. Edelgard gasped into their kiss when she felt her strong hands guide her against her body. She could taste the longing in Byleth’s kiss. It was as deep as her own. Her hands seemed to be everywhere. They brushed against Edelgard’s hips, held her sides, stroked along her back. They were in her hair, tugging softly. Edelgard forgot how to breathe and found herself gasping against Byleth’s lips between kisses. Their teeth knocked against one another in their haste to kiss again. Edelgard couldn’t stop. She didn’t want this to end. 

The feeling of Byleth’s lips against her own lit a new kind of fire inside her. It made her moan into Byleth’s mouth. The longing she chained, the lust she caged, the warmth she put on ice all flooded into her body at once, making her melt so easily, so deliciously. She was losing control. Edelgard wrapped her leg around Byleth’s waist, then the other, until she was flush against her, straddling her. She brought her hands up to tangle into her teal-colored hair, enjoying the softness of it. Nothing but the fabric of Byleth’s overcoat kept her body hidden; it fell slowly from her skin, exposing her in their haste to taste each other. Byleth slowly, softly, pulled her close by her hips, leaning over her as she set Edelgard down onto her back.  _ This is more dangerous than any battle, _ a voice whispered in Edelgard’s head.  _ She will be your bane, your enemy, and yet, you allow her to hold your mind, body, and soul hostage. _

The voice was easy to ignore, for she felt the Byleth’s fingers tracing up the outside of her thighs. Edelgard’s lips parted in a gasp, and Byleth flicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, groaning softly. Edelgard arched her back, enjoying the sound Byleth made, only to suck in a sharp breath as pain struck her. 

Byleth was off of her in a heartbeat. “Edelgard, I’m--I’m sorry.” Her eyes were wide, bewildered, as she too slowly regained control. “Your back…”

Edelgard sat up, panting softly. The heat of pain rivalled the pleasure she felt. She cursed under her breath as she felt the warm trickle of blood escape her reopened wounds. “I’m fine, really,” she rasped. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“No. I was… I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” Byleth glared into the bonfire, frowning. 

Edelgard crossed her arms, hugging them close to her chest as regret filled her.  _ How foolish I am.  _ She knew this would not last. It was just another stolen moment. Yet, she never wanted it to end. The ghost of their kiss lingered, haunting the air. She wondered if Byleth felt it too. She watched as her professor smothered the fire with dirt and rocks, killing the flame she once tended to so intently. Sadness filled the emptiness that Edelgard felt. 

“My teacher…” Edelgard could not think of what to say. 

“Come on,” Byleth rasped. “We should go. Night will fall soon, and there are monsters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always imagined Byleth and El's first kiss as something unplanned, rushed, and in the "heat of the moment" after a battle, for that's when they're most honest with each other and vulnerable to their feelings. I decided to pull from the paralogue _Tales of the Red Canyon_ because that scene really just had Edelgard curiously following the professor... just for the sake of following her. Of course, I changed a bit and left the rest of the BEagles out of the fight so our gals could have some alone time.


	23. Charagma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard and Byleth return to Garreg Mach after their fight in Zanado. The women share pieces of their past with each other. Edelgard reflects on her feelings for Byleth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Please be advised:** this chapter contains nudity and allusions to past abuse.

Night had fallen on Garreg Mach, swaddling the monastery in a darkness that hushed the people into a state of slumber. Only the phantoms of the morn remained in the abandoned merchant shacks and empty streets. Edelgard could feel them watch her as she walked through the village beside Byleth. Her body felt like it had been chewed and spit out by the beasts she fought at Zanado, and it very nearly had, if not for her second Crest. She could still feel its latent power coursing through her veins still, liquid fire; it blurred her thoughts, humming with the promise of strength. Her body became a hearth, a vessel for the Crest of Flames to scorch. Though its fire flickered within, she could not have felt colder. 

Haunting Edelgard’s footsteps was the ghost of desire that lingered between her and Byleth. When it finally possessed Edelgard and consumed her mind and body, she had no control of it. She allowed herself to fall victim to the lustful wishes she kept so tightly guarded. There was no turning back. It only took one kiss for Edelgard to reveal her rawest, deepest longing for the woman she called her teacher, and it chilled her to the bone. The feelings stampeding within her were so new and so powerful, it took all Edelgard had in her to bridle them once more. There was no combat art or textbook that defined the meaning of desire in this way. Edelgard felt like she stumbled into a labyrinth without a map to help her navigate; only the torch of her burning longing could guide her, and the shadows it cast were misleading. Was this right? Where should she go from here? What would come next? 

Perhaps her mind would not be racing if Byleth had the kindness to break the cold silence between them. Edelgard stole a glance at her, unsurprised, but incredibly frustrated, to find her staring blankly ahead. She was little more than a statue with a pulse. Unspeaking, unfeeling, and unreceptive to Edelgard’s presence. She had been that way since they left the woods. It was as if their kiss never happened. Edelgard was so perplexed by Byleth’s silence, she began to doubt the kiss happened at all. Maybe it  _ was  _ a dream? The idea wounded her. For all the torment she steeped herself in, the act itself was more pleasurable than she imagined. She could still feel Byleth’s hands on her, stroking sides, mussing her hair, caressing her thighs. The feeling of her lips against hers only kindled the flames with Edelgard, and the memory of the single, brief flick of her tongue made Edelgard’s face burn hot. 

“When we get to the gate, let me do the talking,” Byleth murmured in monotone. She still did not look at Edelgard, but she was grateful for the sound of her voice breaking the ice between them. 

As they approached the monastery, Edelgard felt her stomach dance nervously. Byleth was still covered in the trappings of battle; she looked like a true mercenary returning from a grisly campaign. Her teal hair was tousled and gleaming, catching the moonlight just right. Dried blood, looking black as ink in the night, smeared up her arms and spattered her iron armor. Ash smudged her face, making her eyes look like blue flames. It would be impossible for her to enter Garreg Mach without getting stopped. What’s worse, Edelgard knew she looked no better off. She still wore nothing but Byleth’s overcoat, leaving more to the imagination for prying eyes. What remained of her tattered gilded armor she carried; nothing but her stockings and boots remained to cover her legs. She looked more like a refugee than a princess.

So it came as no surprise when the gatekeeper halted them. He ran to them, eager as ever, and Edelgard noticed his eyes widen upon Byleth. “Professor! You’re back late,” he observed. “Holy Goddess! What happened to you?” 

Byleth stopped before him, and Edelgard felt her nerves recoil at the harsh gleam in her eyes. “Don’t ask unnecessary questions,” she said. “I’ve had a long day.”

The gatekeeper gawked at Byleth, but when his eyes found Edelgard, she thought his jaw would fall from his face. “My Lady! You’re, uhm, well, you’re clothes--” Even in the dark of night, she could see the gatekeeper’s face turn a new shade of red. 

Byleth stood before Edelgard, looking even stonier than a statue as she hid her from the gatekeeper’s eyes. “You’re awfully observant tonight, Gatekeeper,” she muttered coldly. Edelgard wished she could see her expression because whatever it was caused the young guard to freeze. “Academy policy states that students are allowed to return to the monastery after hours as long as they’re accompanied by their chaperone. I’m her chaperone. So, there’s no need for you to challenge us, is there?” 

“Well, no, but--” The gatekeeper struggled to form his words, so they tumbled from his lips as misshapen syllables. 

“So we have an understanding?” Byleth asked, stepping closer to the gatekeeper. 

The gatekeeper stepped back, laughing nervously. “Yes, yes, of course. I only wanted to be certain nothing was amiss.” 

“I appreciate you doing your duty. I can assure you, there is nothing to worry about,” Byleth said. She turned, facing Edelgard and nodded for her to start walking. “Have a good evening, Gatekeeper.”

Edelgard walked down the empty walkway, feeling Byleth shadow her closely from behind, shielding her from the gatekeeper’s eyes. She laughed softly. “I think you scared the poor boy,” she murmured once they were far from the Main Gate. 

“It was not intentional,” Byleth said. The strain in her voice was tangible. “He was only doing his job. I just… can’t be bothered with more trouble right now.” 

A sinking feeling slithered within Edelgard. She wondered if it was the lingering ghost of their kiss that made Byleth sound so drained. 

Silence returned to settle between them, heavier and colder than ever. Edelgard wanted to ball it up in her fist and throw it outside the monastery walls, but she knew the moment she touched it, it would paralyze her. She moulded different sentences in her head, each with the intent to clear the air.  _ Professor, I acted foolishly. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. Please, don’t look down on me. _ Edelgard grimaced, at war with herself. _ But  _ she _ kissed _ me _ back! If she really didn’t like it, she should’ve stopped. _ Her thoughts suffocated in her throat, unable to be voiced, as she felt herself slip between a rock and a hard place. Edelgard’s life was hard enough, she did not need the burden of her feelings to hinder her any more than they already have. 

“This way,” Byleth said, gesturing down a narrow alley. 

Edelgard hesitated, frowning as she peered through the murky darkness. “But the dormitory is--” 

“You think I’d allow you to return to your chambers like that?” Byleth grabbed her hand, leading her through the dark. “We’re a mess, and if we wait until the morning to bathe, people will ask questions.” 

Edelgard’s protest died in her throat. All she could manage was a meager echo. “Bathe?” 

“You do bathe, don’t you?” 

“Of course I do!” Edelgard snapped, face flushing pink. She pulled her hand free from Byleth, moving to walk beside her. “You just took me by surprise, is all.”

“Why? Do you think I don’t bathe?” Byleth asked, sounding confused.

Edelgard’s face blushed darker. “You’re incorrigible,” she grumbled. 

As they approached the bathhouse, Edelgard felt her nerves split. They hung uselessly within her, just strings dangling and tangling confusingly, making Edelgard question every action she took to get her to this point.  _ You can do this. You can do this. _

The bathhouse was larger than the Dining Hall. Its blue-stained windows hid the interior, while the exterior remained ornately tiled with pretty mosaics and smooth white stone, which spun together to create the illusion of waves rolling against the walls. Hedges, neatly trimmed, lined the outside of the building, though their verdant lustere faded in the cold of autumn. A single guard remained posted before the double door entry, leaning on his lance with a lackadaisical expression. His armor looked gray in the moonlight, unpolished and scuffed from lack of care. His half helm scarcely hid his mophead of black hair. It was not until Byleth and Edelgard stood immediately before him that he decided to stand upright with a yawn. 

“Bathhouse is closed, ladies,” he grunted unhelpfully. 

Byleth did not budge. “As you can see, we’ve returned late from a mission and are in need of a place to wash ourselves. Can you not make an exception?” 

“Rules are rules.” The soldier scratched at the stubble on his neck, eyeing Byleth with a droopy gaze. “But… if you gimme a little  _ incentive _ … I might be inclined to oblige you.” He held out his callused palm with a lopsided grin.

Edelgard stiffened as she saw the muscles in Byleth’s arms grow taut. Whatever patience her professor usually harbored was running thin tonight. It was strange seeing her usually cold and indifferent teacher become so easily agitated. She was not sure if she should be amused or concerned. All Edelgard could do was shuffle uncomfortably. The chill of the evening slowly ate away at her skin, numbing her. There was not much insulation in Byleth’s overcoat, though it warmed her heart to wear it. 

“Sorry.” Byleth was staring down at Edelgard, making her freeze. She reached for her while Edelgard could only stare up like a startled deer. To her surprise, Byleth’s hand went for the side pocket in her overcoat, pulling free a couple coins. Byleth turned back to glare at the guard, dropping a goldpiece and two silverpieces in his palm, a hefty price for a mere wash. “There. Now let us through.” 

“Thank you kindly.” The guard pocketed his change, happy to have his palm greased. However, he failed to stand aside. Instead, he was looking Byleth up and down appreciatively. Edelgard did not realize what was happening until his eyes found her own. His lazy gaze tugged at her neckline, stripping her silently with a leering smile. She felt her stomach churn as his eyes roved her exposed skin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to charge extra for your pretty companion here…” He chuckled, reaching for Edelgard’s hand. “How’s about letting me watch? I’ll be sure to keep you safe--” 

Before the guard could say another word, Byleth reacted. Her fist crashed into his face with such force it sent him reeling back into the bathhouse wall. The clang of his helm hitting the stone echoed down the walkways. Edelgard’s eyes widened as he surrendered to unconsciousness, head lolling to the side as blood trickled from his now-crooked nose. Byleth stood over him, unmoving, before she regained her senses and bent down to his level. She propped him up, letting his back rest against the wall while his lance rested against him. 

When Byleth stood again, she seemed to hesitate before turning to Edelgard with a shrug. “He sleeps. Now, we’re safer than ever.” Something in Edelgard’s eyes must’ve betrayed her emotions because Byleth lowered her head like a child caught misbehaving. “Sorry… I probably shouldn’t have done that.” She wiped her bloody knuckles on her shorts and pushed open the double doors for them.

Edelgard could not keep up. The whirlwind of a woman before her siphoned through different shades of violence faster than the beat of a hummingbird’s wing. She stepped into the bathhouse after her teacher, feeling simultaneously sympathetic for and amused by the knocked out soldier. As the doors shut behind them, the hall darkened. The wood at their feet was smooth and stained dark, its polished surface gleamed in the blue moonlight that filtered through the stained glass. She followed Byleth down a hall lined by limestone pots that held thick green ferns and vines that spilled over the sides in delicate curls. Byleth opened a door leading to the female’s apodyterium, where the flooring hardened from wood to terracotta stone and the roof morphed from flat to cavernous. 

Edelgard’s heart raced. Either side of the walls in the apodyterium were lined with wooden alcoves for their clothes to be stored. The idea of stripping down with Byleth made a nervous sweat burst from her skin. Her mouth felt drier than the stone she walked on. Byleth wasted no time in shedding her armor; she clattered it around with the same carelessness she had while she was drunk, flicking it into the wooden niche before her with a vacant expression. Nerves happily tied knots in Edelgard’s stomach, constraining the swarm of butterflies within her to flutter almost painfully at her sides. She hugged Byleth’s overcoat tighter over her body, wanting to sink into the fabric and never show her face again. 

“What’s wrong?” Byleth was watching her. Her armor was gone now as well as her boots and stockings. She crossed her arms, frowning with concern. “You look upset.” 

Upset did not even scratch the surface of the turmoil bubbling within Edelgard’s skin. She hid her face from Byleth, hugging her body tight. It all happened so fast. The nausea, the fear, the anger, the sadness, the insecurity, it all culminated within her, spinning in her stomach until she thought she would vomit. Her skin turned to brambles, hugging her body so tightly and uncomfortably in a bed of thorns that she was afraid to move. It squeezed her, reminding her why she waited until the bathhouse was almost closed to bathe; why she waited for every last woman to leave the apodyterium before she undressed; why she refused to look at her reflection in the bath water; why she rubbed her skin until it was raw. 

“I don’t want you to see…” Edelgard rasped.

“See what?” Byleth murmured gently. She was closer now, hovering behind Edelgard.

“My scars.” Edelgard squeezed her eyes shut. 

Even admitting so made Edelgard feel foolish. She knew Byleth caught glimpses of what Edelgard carefully hid beneath her clothes, but the idea of her seeing it all, every last inch of the hideousness her body endured beneath a knife, over an extended period of time made Edelgard shrivel. She dug her nails into her palms until she thought they would bleed. The rage inside her was rivalled only by her fear. Why, after all these years, did they still have a hold on her? It was as if she never broke from the chains that bound her. She could still feel them binding her wrists and ankles, weighing her down, dragging her back into the depths of the dungeon where she would be cut open again. The phantom of steel pressing against her flesh made her tremble. Her breath came rapidly, rushing out of her lungs with such fervor Edelgard thought her chest would collapse. 

“Edelgard,” Byleth whispered. Though she only spoke her name, the understanding in her tone spoke leagues more. 

The sound of her voice stirred her, but when Edelgard gazed up at Byleth, she felt far away. 

“You do not have to stay in this place. I can try and arrange for you to come before the bathhouse opens in the morning.” Byleth’s face seemed so soft. Her words were impossibly gentle for a woman that broke a man’s nose less than an hour ago. “I can walk you back to your room, or I can stay with you here, but... no matter what I’m not leaving you, not until I know that you know you’re safe again.” 

Edelgard shivered, nodding silently as she stared up at her. Words died in her throat. 

“I’m going to hold you now, if that’s okay?” Byleth murmured. 

Though Edelgard could not move from where she stood, she managed to nod. The warmth, the softness of Byleth’s touch seemed like the only solace she had in the world. As she felt Byleth’s arms wrap around her, a quivering sigh escaped her lips. She shut her eyes, pressing her forehead just beneath Byleth’s collarbone. There was no heartbeat thudding there to comfort her, so she found comfort in the feeling of Byleth’s hands pressing gently against her back. She felt Byleth’s chin rest atop her head as she pulled her tight against her. Byleth held her in silence; eventually, Edelgard returned the embrace. Her fingertips traced along the curve of Byleth’s back, feeling the planes of muscles etched there. Warmth slowly radiated from within her again, chasing the thorns that pricked her skin away, forcing them to recede to the darkness. Her nausea still lingered, basking in her painful memories, making her tremble. Byleth held her tighter, pressing her face into her hair. 

“I tried to make a corn husk doll,” Byleth admitted. 

Edelgard snorted. It felt like Byleth was trying to distract her. “A what?” 

“Those weird dolls I saw some students making. I tried to make one too after Ignatz showed me how.”

“What happened to it?” 

“I kept ripping it and bending it wrong, so it got all twisted. It didn’t look like a person when I was done, so I stopped trying.” Byleth sighed softly, holding Edelgard closer. “Ignatz said my hands didn’t know how to be gentle.”

Edelgard smiled against Byleth’s collarbone. “You’re gentle with me.”

“You’re not a husk.” 

Silence nestled between them again, but, for once, Edelgard welcomed it. It was a comfortable silence. Nothing needed to be said as the women held one another. Edelgard found her own sanctuary, and it was in Byleth’s arms. Hurtful thoughts still snuck through her head, dropping unwanted reminders of the finite nature of their closeness, but she was able to ignore them for now. 

“Are you ready for me to walk you back to your room?” Byleth asked. 

“No… It’s fine. I’ll stay.” Edelgard did not want to burden Byleth more than she already had. 

Releasing Edelgard from her embrace, Byleth gazed down at her wordlessly. The ghost that followed them from the woods was exorcised by their closeness, but Edelgard still noticed a guard behind Byleth’s stare, as if a wall prevented her from looking deeper. 

“I’ll prepare the water then,” Byleth offered. “I won’t look at you. I promise. I can sit so that my back faces you.”

Edelgard nodded quietly, turning around to remove her clothing. As a reflex, she reached for her axe strap, only to grab at nothing when she realized it wasn’t there. “Professor, where is my axe?” 

She could hear Byleth removing the remainder of her clothing behind her. “You destroyed it when you...”

“I see.” Edelgard did not need to hear anymore. 

“I’ll send you to the armory next week when classes resume,” Byleth said. “You and a couple other students are overdo for new weapons anyway. Don’t feel bad.”

Reminiscing on the moment she lost herself was almost as painful as reflecting on the cause of it. The Crest of Flames was as much a blessing as it was her bane; without it coursing through her veins, she knew she would not have risen again from the darkness they shackled her in. 

As Byleth’s overcoat slipped from her shoulders, she folded it nicely, placing it in the wooden alcove. Her stockings and boots came off easily. Removing her smallclothes, she rested them neatly beside the overcoat. When she turned around, she gawked at the mess Byleth made. Her clothes were thrown haphazardly in no particular order alongside her discarded armor. Despite the sloppiness, Edelgard found herself smiling fondly; she could not resist moving to organize Byleth’s clothes and armor, arranging them carefully back into the niche. 

When she finished, she walked away from the apodyterium. A curtain draped down from the archway leading to the bath; it was a thick blue fabric embroidered with gold and white stitching that resembled grapevines. At its center a goat-like beast reared on its hind legs; its fur was as white as snow and it was dappled with gilded flecks that matched the gold of its long horns and crooked tusks. Edelgard pushed the curtain aside, stepping into the caldarium. 

Moonlight shone from the open ceiling that showcased an indigo sky spun with silver stars. The white marble pillars that lined the bath were wrapped with cords of green ivy; the plants flourished in the humidity wafting from the vents of the hollow walls surrounding them. Wisps of pale steam rose from the crystalline surface of the bathwater; through the clear water, she could see the blue and gold mosaic tiles that constructed the inside of the bath. Steps descended to the center of the bath from each of its four sides; bathers were meant to sit and chat and clean themselves on those submerged stairs. At each corner, the goat-like beast sat, spewing water from its ajar mouth, wetting its crooked tusks. 

Byleth stood beside one of the stone creatures, rotating one of its horns to adjust the water pressure. She did not seem to notice Edelgard, for she kept her back carefully turned to the caldarium’s entrance. Edelgard’s heart jumped excitedly as she watched her. The moonlight hugged her powerful frame, bathing her naked body in its pale light. Byleth looked at home among the marble statues and ornaments. Her muscles so perfectly fit her curves they seemed to be etched from stone. In her hand she held a metal strigil and was expertly gliding it against the bloody grime and ash that hugged her skin. With each stroke, she scraped off the excess dirt from her limbs; she did not even flinch as the strigil grated against her fresh wounds. 

The more Edelgard stared, the more she wanted to feel her again. The envy she felt for a bathing tool frustrated her in an unfamiliar way. Edelgard forced herself to pry her eyes away as she crossed the threshold to approach the bath, focusing instead on the floor. 

“I already got fresh towels and bathing supplies,” Byleth said, still scraping at her skin with her back turned to Edelgard. 

The sound of her voice made Edelgard hesitate. Sure enough, beside the steps sat a pair of buckets that held vials of soap and oil. One bucket still had a strigil remaining. Edelgard took it as her own and began to scrape at her skin with it. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. 

As the metal strigil peeled away at the dried blood and soot that caked her skin, Edelgard saw the ripple of her own muscles come through. Her shoulders were broader and more defined due to her favoritism of the axe, and that favoritism shown in the muscles that laced her back as well. She could see the outline of her frame shivering in the bathwater’s reflection of her, but quickly looked away before the scars became apparent again. 

Byleth was already in the bath by the time Edelgard finished with her strigil. She climbed in after her, smiling as the warm water kissed her skin. She was able to ignore the sting in her wounds, for the pleasure of the aromatic bathwater trumped it. As she sat on the second step, she noticed a swarm of bubbles clouding the surface. Blinking in confusion, she looked up only for her face to crack in shock when she saw Byleth carelessly dumping her entire bottle of soap into the water spewing from the statue’s mouth. Before long, half of the bath gurgled with suds, leaving Edelgard slack-jawed. 

“Professor, you do realize you used all of your soap?” Edelgard asked, bewildered. 

Byleth’s back was still turned to her, but she scooped up a handful of suds and held them up in her palm. “I like the bubbles,” she said flatly. 

Edelgard could only laugh. “Well, I’ll let you use mine then, when you’re ready.” 

“It’s fine. I always have extra,” Byleth said. 

Reaching for her bucket, Edelgard retrieved her soap bottle and sponge. As she applied the soap, she smiled fondly. It smelled of rose and bergamot. She glanced back at Byleth, watching as she dumped a bucket of water over her to soak her head and shoulders.  _ How did she know that’s the soap I used? _

Scrubbing at her skin, Edelgard was careful not to let her eyes linger for too long on her body. What remained of the ash and blood easily wiped away against the sponge; the feeling of the impurities leaving her skin made her feel lighter, more relaxed. She sighed softly, grabbing her bucket. “Professor, can you fill this for me?”

Byleth did not turn around, but instead reached blindly behind her, grabbing at nothing. Edelgard smiled, bringing the bucket to her grasping fingers. As Byleth filled it, Edelgard watched the muscles in her body flex with every movement. How could one woman possibly be so strong? Then, she remembered the sight of Byleth trembling, the way she clutched her chest in pain as she fought against the wolves, how her strength faded more as the battle waged onward. Byleth was not indestructible. Byleth had a… weakness. 

Edelgard felt her insides churn. She could practically see the ruby eyes and serpentine smile of Monica in the water. The warmth of the bathwater did little to melt the ice in her chest. 

“Here.” Byleth held the half-full bucket behind her. 

Taking the bucket, Edelgard poured it over her head, regaining her nerve as the heat rejuvenated her. She sighed, pulling her white hair to one side. “Professor,” she murmured. 

“Yeah?” 

“In the battle against those wolves today… you kept holding your chest. You seemed to be in pain. What was going on?” 

Byleth was washing herself, but suddenly stopped once Edelgard asked her question. “It hurts,” she mumbled. 

“What hurts?” Concern stabbed through Edelgard.

“My chest. I don’t know why it hurts, but… I think it has something to do with that Relic.” 

Edelgard wished she could see Byleth’s face. “Your Relic? But, your Crest, it’s compatible. It shouldn’t harm you to use it.” 

Byleth turned halfway toward Edelgard, not facing her, but sitting so that the profile of her face was shown. Her eyes burned bright as she stared into the bathwater. “Whenever I use the Sword of the Creator, I feel this tugging in my chest… like something in there wants to burst free. It’s only mild at first, but the more I use it, the worse it gets. I had to spend an entire day in bed just to feel  _ normal  _ again after facing Miklan and the Death Knight.” Byleth shook her head. “I know this Relic is entrusted to me, and I know it’s saved us from the worst of fights, but, what is it inside me that’s making me feel this way?”

“I… I don’t know, my teacher.” Under normal circumstances, she would assume it was putting a strain on her heart, but Byleth didn’t have one of those. She was not about to risk letting Byleth know she knew of her secrets, not when the possibility of them becoming enemies still lingered. “Does this mean you’re going to stop using the Sword of the Creator?”

“Of course not. It’s saved our asses too many times,” Byleth deadpanned. “There’s no need to worry yourself about me, though. It’s not in my nature to give in when it comes to battle.” 

“So, what, you’re just going to fight until your body gives out?” Edelgard scoffed. 

“Compared to what you’re trying to do with your life, me swinging a sword around to complete our missions means nothing. I can’t even defend my actions and say protecting my students gives me purpose. You all have proven to me that you can hold your own in a real fight at this point. You don’t need me.” Byleth gathered the bubbles in her palms, gazing into them. “I’ve never had anyone to give myself to or save myself for. When it comes down to me and my enemy, that’s all there is, that’s all I can think about; I’ve never had to consider anything else.”

Edelgard stopped washing, feeling her spirits sink to the bottom of the bath. In truth, she needed Byleth now more than ever. But for her to extend her hand and admit her feelings while she stood on a bed of lies felt disgustingly deceitful. No, Byleth needed to find her purpose on her own. Whether that was with Edelgard or not, she could only hope for the former. Edelgard walked her path, and Byleth walked another; there would come a time when they would meet at the same crossroads, and by then, there would be no lies left between them. Then, and only then, would Edelgard offer her hand.

“Can I ask you a question now?” Byleth mumbled. 

Edelgard watched as Byleth washed her body, finding herself missing being able to look at her face. She replied, “You may.” 

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

A bolt of lightning could have struck Edelgard and she would still not be as shocked as she was in that moment. “I’m… what?”

“I’m not trying to be… what’s the word you use? Incorrigible? I just don’t think you should be ashamed of your scars. They are proof of the horrors you’ve overcome.”

Edelgard hugged herself as dejection tugged at her body. “It’s not the sight of the scars, really, it’s… the thoughts they bring.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said something like that. I was just… trying to make you feel happy. You had sad eyes.” 

“Do you remember that night, when I told you… about my siblings?” Edelgard asked. She was careful to keep her breaths composed, even as the mention of her siblings conjured their cries in her head. 

Byleth nodded quietly. 

“Before I continue, I need you to understand my role in the Empire.” Edelgard stared at Byleth, feeling her body start to tremble slightly. “My country… it’s crawling slowly towards collapse. It’s old, and the power and influence we once had was lost long before I was born. We’re able to stay afloat because of the strength in our economy, but… the strength of my people, it’s waning. They can only be appeased by bread and circuses for so long. They want change, they  _ need _ change, before they’re crushed under the weight of a country that cares only for the gold in their pockets. 

And do you know what solution the men in power came up with? They decided that the next heir needed to be blessed with the power of a Major Crest. They believed if they sat someone on the throne with that kind of strength, a ‘peerless ruler,’ they would be able to usher in a new era in the Adrestian Empire. They believed they could manufacture their own messiah. 

So, they took my siblings and I. They imprisoned us.” Edelgard’s hands shook as she held her wrists. “They violated our bodies, cut us open so we may bleed out, and filled us with blood that was not our own. It was all to endow us with a Major Crest. In the end, I was the only one that survived. My siblings and other innocents that did not even know what they were dying for were sacrificed. I was told it was destiny. I was told I would be their savior, their salvation, but when I finally stepped foot outside that dungeon, I didn’t feel like anything.”

Edelgard smiled bitterly. “Here I am. The fruit of their endeavor. Heir to the Adrestian Empire, Edelgard von Hresvelg.”

When she breathed again, Edelgard finally chanced a look at Byleth. To her surprise, she was shaking. Her jaw was clenched. Her muscles were wound tight. The blaze in her blue eyes was as fierce as any flame. “Who is to blame?” she growled. 

“I used to think it was a who,” Edelgard murmured. Her own rage boiled within, though she was better at hiding it than Byleth. “It’s more of a what… This society we live in values money, status, and Crests above all. The people that did this to me were only working within a system that encouraged it. That’s why I’ve made a promise to myself to change the world. As Emperor, I will make it so that no one will endure such meaningless sacrifices ever again. I swear it.” 

Byleth stared down at the bathwater, but Edelgard stared at her. “Look at me,” she said. 

Byleth looked up and they locked eyes for the first time since entering the bath. Byleth’s gaze was not invasive, rather, it held a storm of emotion Edelgard could not even begin to understand. Though the scars that wrought her body remained unhidden, Edelgard was surprised to find she did not feel squeamish; she shared the truth behind their origin. The secrets scourging her skin were no longer secrets. Byleth could look at her, all of her, and know what she had been through, and even with the knowledge of that horror, the other woman did not shy away. She did not gaze upon Edelgard with fear or pity or unabashed curiosity. Instead, she seemed to gaze into her, trying to find something beneath her skin. It gave Edelgard the courage to continue.

“I’ve kept this secret from you all this time, but, I want to show you. I want to show you the power of my second Crest.” Edelgard held up her hand. From it, a light shone, reflected on the bubbles surrounding them. With a hiss, Edelgard expelled the strength she held within her blood. It shone in a Crest that knotted intricately and flared at its crown like flames. 

“The Crest of Flames,” Byleth murmured. 

Edelgard nodded. “It’s the same as yours.” 

When Edelgard hid her Crest again, the bathhouse seemed darker than before. Only the sound of rushing water filled the silence. Though she unveiled one of her most closely held secrets to Byleth, she did not feel vulnerable. If anything, she felt vindicated. There were enough secrets between them. Eliminating some gave her the relief her mind and body craved. 

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Byleth said at last. “So, that light I saw when you fought the beast?”

“That was it. The Crest of Flames.” Edelgard smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t truthful at first. I didn’t know what you’d think of me.” 

“And you never will if you aren’t truthful,” Byleth pointed out. 

If only Byleth knew how her words severed Edelgard’s heart. She was right, of course. She would never know how Byleth felt about her until she knew everything. To lay bare her intentions, however, would put everything at risk. 

“All I need to do is wash my hair and then we can leave,” Byleth said, reeling Edelgard back into the present.

Edelgard watched as Byleth reached for her soap, stopping her with an outstretched hand. Whatever this was that she felt, Edelgard knew she would not be able to act on it in earnest. Their kiss still lingered between them, an undying memory of what could be. She knew it could not be more than that, but that did not stop Edelgard from wanting to get as close to the fire as she could; she just wanted to warm herself again, to feel alive. 

“May I?” Edelgard asked. 

Byleth stared at her, nodding wordlessly as she gave her the soap. 

Pouring the lavender-scented soap into her palm, Edelgard moved to sit behind Byleth. The hunger she felt for her body was tempered by the gentle longing she had for her company. Even with their naked bodies so close to one another, Edelgard could restrain herself. Mussing her fingers in Byleth’s dark hair, she lathered the soap between the strands. Touching her again, even so innocently, warmed Edelgard. They could never be anything, but in this moment, they felt like something. 

“What’s this?” Edelgard rubbed the length of a bump on the side of Byleth’s head. It was hidden by her hair, but the mark was undeniable. 

“Hm? Oh, that’s my first scar.” 

“That’s an odd place for a scar,” Edelgard mused, tracing the length of it.

“Well, I didn’t get it in a battle or anything. It was from a rock.” 

“A rock?” Edelgard never thought of Byleth as clumsy. “Did you fall down a cliff or something?”

“No, it wasn’t like that.” Byleth’s voice sounded strange as she reminisced, as if she was reading from a passage in a book that was written in a diction beyond her comprehension. “The rock was thrown at me.”

“Why would anyone throw a rock at you?” Edelgard asked.

“The other kids in Remire Village would make a game out of trying to make me cry. I don’t know why they did it. Even when I asked, they never gave me an answer.” Her voice was detached, as if she was speaking about someone else’s past and not her own. “Jeralt told me they were weak. Weak people seek to harm the strong because they want to bring them down to their level. If everyone is weak, then no one is.”

“They just fear what they don’t understand,” Edelgard said softly, still massaging soap into her hair. 

“You fear me,” Byleth said. “You may not think I’m a demon like the others, but you still fear me.”

Edelgard knew it was true. She said so herself. To deny it now would be to lie.

“I never wanted to be feared, but I never knew how to be understood. I still don’t. How can anyone understand me when _ I  _ don’t even understand me?” Byleth shrugged. “In the end, I was never able to cry. No matter how they hurt me, I couldn’t give them what they wanted. Sometimes, I wish I did. If I cried, maybe I could’ve gotten them to understand…”

“What did you do to those kids that harmed you?” Edelgard asked. 

“I killed them.” 

Edelgard froze, her eyes sliding to peer at Byleth’s reflection in the water, only to see her smiling playfully. She laughed, splashing water up at the side of her face. “You imp.” 

Byleth shook her head, sending the water flying off her face, still smiling. “I never did anything to them. Eventually, they got bored and gave up. I was content being left alone. I had my sword to keep me company.” 

“Well, you have more than your sword now,” Edelgard offered. 

“Yeah, I suppose I do.” Byleth’s smile remained. 

Edelgard filled Byleth’s bucket. “I’m going to wash your hair out now,” she murmured. As the water flowed through her dark hair, Edelgard felt a loving hymn hum in her heart. There was so much she had yet to know about Byleth, and she found herself wanting to know more. Why would dragons ever horde gold when women like Byleth existed? 

Byleth turned to face her, water dripping from her face. Her eyes glowed in the moonlight. “Edelgard,” she murmured. 

It was amazing how with a single gaze Byleth could steal the air from her lungs. “Yes?” 

“What did it mean?” she asked. 

“What did it mean?” Edelgard echoed, feeling her face grow hot. “Are you asking about…” 

“The kiss.” Byleth eyes searched her face. The innocence in her expression, the curiosity of her words, it tainted Edelgard’s thoughts with lustful possibilities. “What did it mean?”

A flurry of reasons hurried to Edelgard’s tongue, eager to reveal her desires, her feelings. She swallowed them. For her safety, she could not speak the truth. “Do kisses need to mean anything?” Edelgard asked, avoiding her eyes. Even speaking the words put her heart in a vice-like grip. “It was the heat of the moment that made us do such things, nothing more.” 

“The heat of the moment,” Byleth repeated. She sounded like she was reciting a foreign language. The warmth in her expression faded, though her eyes retained the storm within. “I see.”

“I’m sorry.” Edelgard did not know what else to say. 

“No, I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn’t have… I don’t know what came over me.” Byleth shook her head. She almost sounded… sad. She rose from the water abruptly, moving to step up the stairs and leave the bath. Edelgard could hear her drying off with her towel behind her. “I’ll take you back to your room when you’re ready.”

The sound of Byleth’s footsteps leaving the caldarium seemed to echo. Edelgard sat in the bath for a little while longer, staring down at her reflection. The heat of the moment, nothing more. That’s all it could be, no matter how much Edelgard wanted more. A wave of panic flooded her, embroiling her in a rip current that tore all sense from her mind. She buried her face in her hands and sighed. She knew why she chose to protect Byleth, why she chose to keep the secret of her weakness close, why she longed to see her smile, feel her touch, why she wanted her to join her in the end. 

_ I’m falling in love with her. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter of the "mid-fic" weekend celebration. It's probably the most dialogue-heavy thus far, but I felt it was necessary in order to understand Byleth's psyche and how it aligns with El's. 
> 
> Thank you to all my readers for following me up to this point! We are halfway to the end. I cannot thank you all enough for your support of this fic. I hope I've given you something that can help you escape from this crazy world we live in.


	24. Fiddler's Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles take notice of Edelgard's recent sadness and decide to cheer her up... by taking her fishing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a "fluff" chapter with nothing super plot-heavy. I mostly wrote it for my own pleasure... as well as to develop some of the character dynamics.  
> Also, the sea shanty here is not my own. It's a take on an old sailor's song called "Fiddler's Green." I only made minor changes to the lyrics.
> 
> I hope you like it! And if you find yourself relating to Edelgard here, then I must encourage you to learn to enjoy the moment! Everything in life is temporary, so please, take the time to appreciate what you have.

“Where is everyone going?” 

Edelgard watched as students flocked to the cobblestone walkways, all moving in the same direction. Excitement plastered their faces in broad smiles. Warm pink mantled their cheeks as the cold morning air nipped at their skin. Frost billowed from their flushed lips as they talked excitedly with one another. 

“What?” Caspar gasped. “You don’t know?” He walked alongside Edelgard cheerily. His nose was as red as a cherry.

“Obviously not.” Edelgard frowned, hugging her arms closer to her chest as a chilly breeze blew through the monastery. Her regular school uniform was not as warm as her Lord uniform, but her replacement had yet to arrive. So, she suffered through the cold and the boundless cheer of her companion. 

Caspar jumped and caught a crimson leaf being carried by the wind, crushing it in his fist for no logical reason other than sheer enjoyment. “There’s a tournament today! A fishing tournament!” 

“Whose bright idea was that?” Edelgard asked. 

“I think Seteth organized it. Something about Flayn and the Academy students needing something to take their minds off all the craziness going on these last few moons.” Caspar shrugged, smiling as he let the shreds of the leaf he crumbled get carried away by the wind once more. 

“Sounds like a waste of time,” Edelgard murmured stormily under her breath.

The second week of the Horsebow Moon was colder than normal, for the impending Wyvern Moon was quick to usher in its chilling winds. Leaves fell in abundance, blotting the stony grounds of the monastery in pools of orange and red. The Great Harvest was still in full force, filling the air with the scent of spiced apples, pumpkin, and hazelnuts. Students, soldiers, and priests alike all carried around the tokens of the season in the form of marigold bouquets, corn husk dolls, and buttermilk bread stuffed with raisins. As Edelgard and Caspar approached the Dining Hall, they witnessed wagons of wine casks and crates of squash, corn, and potatoes being loaded into the kitchens. 

“Wow, looks like they’re already preparing for the feast next moon,” Caspar observed. He inhaled vigorously. “I can smell it already!”

Unlike her companion, Edelgard’s spirits remained dampened at the thought of the encroaching festivities. She did not feel like celebrating anything after what happened to her last week. Without a mission to look forward to, Edelgard could only distract herself with her training and schoolwork, but even that was not enough to curb her sadness. Her heart still ached, rubbed raw as she struggled to hold it in place every time she got near Byleth. Even the thought of her made Edelgard sick with longing.  _ It was the heat of the moment that made us do such things, nothing more.  _ With those few words, Edelgard smothered the fire that so eagerly rose between her and Byleth; she only had a pyre to visit now, and when she touched the ashes of what could have been, she felt no warmth. 

“Caspar, I’m not trying to be rude, but where is it that you’re taking me?” Edelgard asked. 

“Well, it’s funny you should ask that, ‘cause I’m taking you to the fishing tournament!” Caspar answered excitedly. 

Edelgard’s expression soured. “Why? Caspar, I don’t even fish.” 

“You’ve been down in the dumps lately. So, me and the rest of the class decided we should, I don’t know… Have some fun!” 

“And fishing is… fun?” Edelgard felt like crawling into a hole. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘the rest of the class?’” 

Caspar laughed, grabbing her hand and forcing her to run down the walkway. Students hurried to the side to get out of their way as Caspar charged through like a bull. Edelgard nearly stumbled as she pulled her down the stairs that led to the docks. She was left panting by the time that stood before the pier. Massive white sails waved at her in greeting as ships from across Fodlan moored alongside the stone docks; every major river led to Garreg Mach, making it an ideal destination for sailing merchants. Boatswains manned the docks, barking orders at their crewmen. Sailors unloaded their cargo onto land with smiles and cheer, singing sea shanties that echoed throughout the monastery. Atop a mountain of crates draped with fishing nets, a bluejacket played his fiddle, belting out a tune.

_ Now, I don’t want a harp nor a halo, not me. _

_ Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea. _

_ I’ll play me old squeeze-box as we sail along _

_ With the wind in the rigging to sing me a song. _

_ We’ll meet again some day in Fiddler’s Green, _

_ Where the girls are all pretty and the beer is free _

_ And there's bottles of rum growing from every tree. _

Participants of the fishing tournament lined the pier, casting their lines, smoking pipes, and passing around flagons of ale to fill their horns. The shack of a tackle-house was overrun by fishermen and sailors alike, each carrying out bundles of rope, buckets of bait, and fishing rods. Laughter and song filled the air. The cheer of the gathering people was contagious enough to stir a smile from Edelgard. To her dismay, Caspar saw it. 

“See? I knew this would cheer you up,” Caspar said, giving her a nudge. “Come on.” 

Edelgard followed him to a group of students, and it did not take long for her to recognize them as her Black Eagles. Caspar ran to them, pointing at Edelgard excitedly, and suddenly all their smiles flickered her way. 

Dorothea was the first to peel away from the crowd. “Oh, Edie, I tried to tell them, but they insisted on dragging you out.” She frowned apologetically as she pulled in Edelgard for a hug, and whispered mischievously, “If it were up to me, we’d sneak out and go shopping in town.”

Edelgard giggled. “What, you don’t want to go fishing?” 

“Are you kidding? And touch those slimy bugs they call bait?  _ No, thank you.” _ She laughed. “I don’t even like fish!” 

“You don’t have to stay,” Edelgard pointed out. 

“Well, Petra wants to fish, and…”

“You want to be there for Petra?” Edelgard smiled, though her heart twinged with envy. She could only wish for what they had. 

Dorothea’s face blushed pink as she released Edelgard from their embrace. “Am I that obvious?” 

“Only a little,” Edelgard teased. The longer she smiled, the more it felt forced. “It’s okay, your secret is safe with me.” 

“I’m only trying to be a good friend to her. That’s what she needs most right now. Someone to show her kindness.” She sighed. “Ah, what am I saying? How’ve  _ you _ been, Edie?” Dorothea’s brow furrowed with concern. “Everyone’s worried. You’ve been moping about for the last week.”

Edelgard shrugged, avoiding her stare. “It’s just the change of the season. These colder moons always make me melancholy.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t fool me,” Dorothea murmured softly, holding her face. Her hands felt warm. “I know the face of a broken heart.”

Lowering her head, Edelgard released a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“It’s Byleth, isn’t it?” Dorothea whispered, pulling her back in for a hug. “I’m not sure what happened, but if you need help, you know you can ask for it.”

Edelgard returned the hug. It felt nice to be held again, even if it was not in the arms of the woman she wanted. “I don’t even know where to begin,” she confessed softly. 

Dorothea rubbed her back, nodding. “I understand, but you can’t avoid her forever, you know. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I think she’s as hurt as you are, she just doesn’t know how to say it.” 

“It’s more than that… It’s… It’s just complicated.” Edelgard pressed her face against Dorothea’s shoulder. This sort of comfort felt oddly nostalgic. An old memory, blurred by time, stirred from the deepest recesses of her mind. She was held this way before by a girl with tawny-colored hair and blue eyes. She had a kind voice, a soft voice. She whispered, “El.” What was her name again? That girl she called her sister?

“Being loved makes us stronger and loving someone gives us courage,” Dorothea murmured, squeezing her. “You deserve love, Edie. The Imperial throne may only have room for one, but your heart has room for many.” 

If Edelgard knew how to open her heart, she would. It was bound, wrapped in chains with multiple locks. The keys were lost in her ambition and fear and anger. To search for the keys would mean to delve into the deepest, darkest parts of herself. If she reached within, she risked facing the shadow she kept so carefully caged. When she emerged again, she feared she would not be the same.

“Thank you, Dorothea,” Edelgard murmured. “If I knew what I needed, I would ask for it.”

“I’m here for you,” Dorothea said, parting from their hug. She smiled and nodded to the rest of the Black Eagles that were talking and joking with one another. “We all are.” 

“Lady Edelgard!” Mercedes approached her, leaving the other students. She smiled sweetly. Edelgard’s spirits were already dampened, but upon seeing her, they became sodden. Dark circles haunted Mercedes’s eyelids and her voice was hoarse, though she tried so hard to hide it. “I’m glad you came.” 

“Mercedes,” Edelgard greeted, feeling her strength wane.  _ In the end, you want us all to be as tortured as you. _ Death’s words echoed within her as she gazed into Mercedes’s sad lavender eyes. She went through the trouble of convincing Byleth to recruit her, and in the end, she got her wish. The cost? Seeing Mercedes suffer through the realization that her long-lost brother was Death himself. Edelgard had more than buyer’s remorse, she had gut-wrenching guilt.

Warmth wrapped around Edelgard’s neck as Mercedes draped a crimson scarf around her. It smelled faintly of sage. “I made these for us. I figured it was the least I could do for my new classmates.” She eyed Edelgard appreciatively. “Red looks so good on you!” 

“Thank you,” Edelgard murmured. As she gazed around at her classmates, she realized they were all wearing the woolen scarfs. “You made one for everybody?”

Mercedes nodded. “Yes, I’ve been working on them for a while now, ever since I first considered joining you, actually… I wanted to be able to bring something to your House as a ‘thank you’ for having me.” She laughed softly. “I’m glad I made extras. I didn’t realize how many people would be joining the Black Eagles. I’m afraid I don’t have one for Monica or Flayn yet…”

At the mention of Monica and Flayn, Edelgard had to control her expression. Having Monica added to the Black Eagles’ roster was difficult enough. Upon learning that Flayn would be joining them too, Edelgard thought her shoulders would collapse from the extra weight resting on them. Eyes above and below, two opposing sides now sat within the classroom, each watching Byleth with piqued interest and ulterior motives. Flayn needed an education like Monica needed to graduate; it was all a front only Edelgard had the curse of seeing through.

“Mercedes, that’s so thoughtful of you. You really shouldn’t have… Just joining us is enough.” She smiled at her as guilt gnawed her insides. “Are you doing okay? I heard about--” Edelgard stopped talking, for Mercedes pressed her fingertips gently to her lips. 

“Please, Lady Edelgard, don’t worry about me.” Mercedes smiled gently, letting her hand fall back to her side. She looked tired. “I’m not ready to talk about him just yet.”

The guilt wrenching Edelgard’s guts ripped them apart. She wanted to leave. She even considered running to one of the moored ships and becoming a stowaway. They could take her to a far-off land where she could just be a no one, a delightful, ignorant no one that had nowhere to go and nothing to be. That bluejacket sang of a place called Fiddler’s Green, that sounded like the perfect place for her to go and be no one. 

“Edelgard! Finally, you’re here.” Lysithea’s smile was partially hidden by the red scarf that was a little too big for her, but the joy was evident in her eyes as she walked up to her. “I must say, organizing a class get-together just to fish is something I’d expect from my old House, not you guys.” She shrugged. “But if it’s to help cheer you up, I  _ guess _ it’s okay.”

Edelgard gazed down at Lysithea and all thoughts of leaving faded into oblivion. How could she ever think of running away after all she’s been through? If she left, Fodlan would remain as it was, and more people would fall victim to the very system that cursed her and the young woman before her. More people would die. More people would suffer. To be a no one meant she would not be Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir of the Adrestian Empire. There was no other Edelgard that could take her place. It was only her, and it always would be. 

“Thanks for coming,” Edelgard said, resting her hand on top of Lysithea’s head, petting her. She asked playfully, “Are you going to fish with me?” 

Lysithea grumbled, batting her hand away like a grumpy cat. “Of course not! I’ll watch you, though.” 

“Lady Edelgard, I’m surprised you came,” Hubert muttered. To her amusement, even he was wearing the scarf Mercedes knitted. Hubert watched her with the same tightly-knit frown that wrinkled his face since the day after she returned from Zanado.

“My escort was very… persuasive,” Edelgard said, nodding at Caspar. “I didn’t have much choice.” 

“Lady Edelgard! They are saying you will join the fishing too.” Petra ran to her, thrusting a fishing pole into her hand with a smile. “I enjoy catching the fish, and it gives me great enjoyment to catch them with you.” 

Edelgard squeezed the fishing pole with a disgruntled expression. “I… don’t know how to fish,” she admitted. 

“If it pleases you, My Lady, I will fish in your stead,” Hubert offered with a bow. He grunted, face twisting into a grimace as Ferdinand slapped his back while he bowed. 

“No, no, no, we signed up Lady Edelgard, so it must be _ her _ that does the fishing.” Ferdinand’s haughty grin did not waver as Hubert stood upright and fixed him with a glare. “It seems I’ve finally found something you’re not good at,” he went on proudly. “Now, that’s a prize in itself.”

Lysithea piped up in Edelgard’s defense. “Dipping a line in the water is nothing to brag about!” 

“Oh, yeah?” Ferdinand purred. “Why don’t you try it, then?” 

Edelgard stood between them, sighing in annoyance. “Come on, you guys, that’s enough.”

As Ferdinand waltzed off to the docks, Edelgard felt her chest tighten. Sitting on the pier, she saw the achingly familiar teal-colored hair of Byleth. Beside her, Sylvain sat, doing more talking than fishing. Byleth only nodded every now and then, not seeming interested in whatever Sylvain was saying as she focused her blue eyes on the water’s surface. Bernadetta hovered over her, helping her re-bait Byleth’s hook whenever she asked. Byleth looked so calm while she fished. Not a care in the world troubled her face. 

“I will be teaching you,” Petra said, snapping Edelgard out of her trance.

“Oh, you will? Thank you, Petra,” Edelgard replied. “Do you fish often?” 

“I fish with frequency in Brigid, but the fish came from the ocean, not the rivers.” Petra’s brown eyes rested on the glittering surface of the lake. A whimsical smile brightened her features. Edelgard had a feeling she was thinking of Brigid’s seas. “Shall we be going now?” 

“One moment, Petra, I need to have a word alone with Hubert,” Edelgard said. 

Nodding, Petra took off for the docks. Lysithea and Dorothea followed her, talking excitedly with one another. Caspar sat on the pier, already managing to get his line tangled. It was Lindhardt that helped him with the knot, though he didn’t look thrilled about it. When Ferdinand joined them, he laughed at their misfortune, watching the two with pleasure. As Mercedes sat beside him, he nearly dropped his pole in the water.

“My Lady?” Hubert stood by her side, joining her in watching the other students. 

“Where’s Monica?” Edelgard asked, bringing her scarf up to her nose. There was always a chance someone was reading her lips. She had to be careful. “Have you discovered what they’re up to yet?”

“Monica is in the library ‘studying,’” Hubert reported. His golden eye glowed in the midday light. “Most of her time outside of class is spent there. Her and Tomas speak at length with one another, but I don’t know about what. It’s hard to get close to them in the library; it’s too empty and quiet.”

“I understand. At least we can confirm her and Tomas are working together.” That did not settle well with Edelgard at all. “They’re planning something, I just know it. You don’t even have an inkling as to what they discuss?” 

“I know they speak of the professor,” Hubert muttered, “but that should come as no surprise. Monica made it very clear that she’s trying to sniff out a weakness in her.”

“She has no weaknesses,” Edelgard insisted a little too quickly. She cleared her throat, recovering from her haste to protect Byleth. “What I mean is, we must maintain the idea that she has no weaknesses.”

_ It hurts.  _ Byleth’s words in the bathhouse echoed in Edelgard’s mind. The sight of her clutching at her chest in pain haunted Edelgard. The Relic was a powerful weapon, but incomplete without its Crest Stone. It wounded Byleth with every use, trying to pull her nonexistent heart from her chest with every swing. Byleth had a weakness, and Edelgard made it her duty to keep it a secret.

“Monica will not stop until she finds something to sink her teeth into.” Hubert watched her with a strange expression. “The way Her Highness speaks leads me to believe you’ve discovered one and wish to keep it quiet?”

“I have and we must.” Edelgard watched as Byleth reeled in a fish, nearly knocking Sylvain over in her attempt to bring it in. She was nothing but a woman with a fishing pole in that moment, but Edelgard knew how quickly that could change. “The less they know, the more power we have. They wish to slither in the dark? Let them.”

“So, Her Highness wants to protect the professor?”

“Not protect,” Edelgard corrected, though her tongue writhed with the lie. “We’re only withholding information from destructive parties. Should we need to exploit her weakness, we will.” 

“I will not ask what weakness you discovered or how. I trust you will tell me when I need to know.” Hubert’s voice lowered, grating, as he glared down at Edelgard. “You realize she will always be a threat, Your Highness. Anyone that is not with us is against us.”

“I know, Hubert,” Edelgard murmured. She did not have the energy to get upset with him.

“What did she do to you, or say, to make you act this way?” Hubert demanded. The distress in his voice was prominent. Edelgard noticed a dark desperation in his expression as he gazed back down at Byleth; she knew in that moment he still had the desire to kill her and would do so if she wished it. “Whatever harm she brought to you, I can inflict upon her twofold.” 

“Your tasking does not concern Byleth, Hubert. You’re to focus on getting as much information on Monica as possible. If tailing Monica gets too boring, I want you to take the time to figure out what Flayn is doing in our class. I’ve told you since the beginning that I will be the one keeping an eye on the professor.” 

Hubert bowed, expression strained. “As you wish, Your Highness.” 

“Now, I suppose I should join our classmates.” Edelgard walked toward the pier, eager to end her discussion with her vassal. She held up her pole and said, “I’ve got fish to catch.” 

As Edelgard approached the pier, the stench of fish became more apparent. The midday sun shone brightly against the lake surface, glittering gold against greenish blue. Anglers sat long the dock, dipping their lines into the water with content smiles on their faces. Edelgard never realized how peaceful a passtime fishing was until she noticed how quiet the lakeside became once she left the bustle of working sailors and commotion within the tackle-house. Seeing Petra sitting on the fishing pier with Dorothea and Lysithea, Edelgard hurried to join them. Walking down the wooden pier, Edelgard felt her nerves recoil as she passed Byleth, Sylvain, and Bernadetta. Thankfully, they all seemed too enthralled by their fishing to notice Edelgard. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Edelgard said as she sat between Petra and Lysithea. “I’m ready to learn.”

“Thank you for learning from me, Lady Edelgard,” Petra said, smiling at her. “Please, take my apologies if I am misunderstanding… If I am hard to be understanding.” 

Edelgard returned her smile, holding up her fishing pole. “Don’t worry about that. I know you’ll be a great teacher.” 

“Aw! This is so cute!” Dorothea gushed, beaming across at them. “It kinda makes me want to fish too. What do you think, Lyssie?” 

Lysithea rolled her eyes. “Thanks but no thanks. Watching is good enough for me.”

“First, you will be taking the bait to bring to your hook,” Petra instructed. From a steel bucket, she retrieved a writhing white grub. The sight of it squirming between her fingers made Edelgard’s stomach flip. Effortlessly, Petra skewered the insect larva onto her hook. 

Lysithea wretched. “That’s so gross!” 

“It is not so gross to the fish,” Petra said, laughing. “They eat these with quickness.”

Swallowing her squeamishness, Edelgard grabbed a grub from the bucket. Before she could dwell on the feel of it writhing in her fingers, she stabbed the bug onto her hook. “Like that?” 

“Yes!” Petra jumped excitedly in her seat. “You are impressing to me.” 

“Wow, Edie, I didn’t think you’d actually touch that bug,” Dorothea said. There was laughter in her green eyes, but it was good-natured. 

Edelgard frowned, still feeling like the bug was wriggling between her fingers. “Let’s not talk about it.”

“Now, we will do the casting.” Petra gestured to the water. “The dark water is deepest. The biggest fish hide there.”

“So, I cast my line further out?” Edelgard asked.

Petra nodded. “Do like me.” Bringing her pole overhead, with a thrust she shot her line out. A spool of silver caught the sunlight, shining as it slithered to the dark blue water, submerging with a splash. Her ombre eyes glowed with joy as she hit her mark. “It takes much practicing, but you will be learning in time.”

“Here it goes,” Edelgard murmured. She mimicked Petra’s movements, bringing her line overhead. She hesitated, suddenly fearing the hook would tangle in her hair, or worse, the wriggling grub would slip from its skewer and drop on her head. Fumbling, she yanked the pole forward, watching with an embarrassed blush as her line meekly fell not too far from the pier, plunking into the water anticlimactically. “I messed up…”

“Do not be having worries, Lady Edelgard,” Petra assured her. “You will still be catching fish from there.”

Edelgard shuffled in her seat, watching the water ripple around her line. “Now what?” 

“We must be waiting for hungry fish,” Petra said.

“That could take forever!” Edelgard exclaimed, staring across the water at the other anglers lining the docks. Some of them have been sitting without getting a single bite since before she cast her line. 

Petra laughed. “Yes! Is it not great? We have time for sitting peacefully.” 

Lysithea leaned against Edelgard, eyes half-shut as she gazed into the lake. “Might as well get comfortable.” 

Edelgard never thought about making time to sit peacefully. There was always someone she needed to talk to, letters to write, schoolwork to complete, or training to endure. To simply sit and wait was not a luxury she was accustomed to. It felt oddly relaxing. After a while, she felt herself smiling contentedly. She enjoyed the feeling of the pale sunlight against her skin, warming her after a chilly breeze blew off the lakefront. The sound of the fiddler still playing his song and the rhythmic shouts of the sailors offloading their cargo lulled her. 

“Do you fish like this in Brigid, Petra?” Dorothea asked. 

“Yes, but we also are using spears.” That whimsical expression returned to Petra’s face. Her eyes glowed with reverie. “To be swimming is what I really love. We would take boats out to the sea and find many creatures. On sunny days, it fills my heart full to be diving beneath the clear surface and using my spear to catch the fish.”

“That sounds amazing,” Dorothea murmured.

Edelgard couldn’t agree less. Diving into the ocean, or any water for that matter, made her heart shrivel. She could only imagine the waves pulling her under, drowning her. She suddenly appreciated fishing from the safety of the pier a lot more. 

“That sounds a lot more exciting than this,” Lysithea added teasingly, though she sounded tired as she continued to rest against Edelgard’s shoulder.

“Do you miss Brigid?” Edelgard asked Petra. 

“Yes, my family is far away now… and I am feeling the sick for my home,” Petra murmured. Her smile was sad, but her eyes brightened as she looked from Edelgard to Dorothea. “But I am having a new family here, and it gives me much happiness. I feel I have belonging.” 

“You think of us as family?” Edelgard echoed, smiling fondly. 

“Yes. We are looking out for each other like family. When one of us feels sadness, we all do. We have togetherness.” She smiled at Edelgard. “It is as the professor says, we are not entering the battlefield alone.”

“Petra, that was so sweet,” Dorothea murmured, leaning against her affectionately. “I’m happy we have each other too. I’ve never really had anyone to call my family until now. We may have all come to the Academy for different reasons, but in the end, we are all in this together.”

“Will we still have togetherness when we graduate?” Petra asked. 

Edelgard gazed into the lakewater, watching as it shone like a turquoise gem. She never took the time to realize their education was already halfway over. Only another six moons rested between them and the end. Her destiny waited for her on the horizon, and for so long, she eagerly rode toward it, never stopping to enjoy the journey that would bring her there. She was always chasing the sun, wanting to reach the light before it set. Looking back, Edelgard realized she finally had memories she was willing to revisit. She had laughs and smiles and victories and friendships. She even had love, though she turned it away. The taste of her newfound memories was bittersweet, but she would gladly taste them again. 

“Who’s to know where we will end up in the end,” Edelgard murmured. “We have togetherness now, so let’s just enjoy that.”

“You’re right!” Dorothea agreed, smiling. “What do you think, Lyssie?”

Edelgard glanced down at Lysithea, laughing softly. “She’s asleep.” 

Petra yanked at her pole abruptly, eyes wide with excitement. “I have the fish!” 

“Well, catch it!” Dorothea encouraged, laughing. 

Edelgard watched with awe as Petra wrestled with her fishing pole, coaxing the line closer and closer with every expert flick of the wrist. Her brows furrowed with concentration as she tugged, not giving in to the violent yanks of her catch. With a grunt, she gave one last pull. Emerging from the water, a silver fish wriggled on her hook. The water looked like liquid gold as it splashed around the caught trout. Petra quickly grabbed her line, pulling up the fish so they could all admire it together. 

Lysithea woke up during the commotion, gawking at the trout as it struggled on the hook. “Woah! That’s actually… kind of cool.” 

“Good job, Petra,” Dorothea cheered.

“Yes, nicely done,” Edelgard agreed. She glanced at her line self-consciously, wondering if she would ever end up catching anything. 

Petra unhooked her trout effortlessly, unbothered by the feeling of its iridescent scales or the stickiness of its puckered lips. With a satisfied smile, she deposited her catch in her bucket, where it flopped meekly, gasping for air. “Now we will be waiting for yours, Lady Edelgard.” 

Edelgard watched as her line bobbed uselessly in the water, frowning. “I don’t think I’ll catch anything.” 

“Don’t be silly, Edie! Of course you will. You learned from the best.” Dorothea smiled encouragingly. 

As if on cue, Edelgard’s line gave a tug. Her eyes widened as her hands gripped her fishing pole. “I… think I got something!” She looked desperately at Petra. “What--what do I do?”

Petra put her hand over Edelgard’s. “There is no panicking now. You must be reeling in. Pull the line when you feel tugging and then give a break, then be pulling again. When it is closest to you, you must be pulling the line out of the water.”

Edelgard obeyed, pulling then slacking, pulling then slacking, until finally the line was brought back to her. Excitement welled up inside her. She grabbed at her line, smiling as she pulled it up and out of the water, doing as Petra had done. 

“You did it!” Dorothea cheered. 

Lysithea burst out in laughter as Edelgard held up her catch for all of them to see. “What in Goddess’s name is  _ that?”  _

Whatever it was, it was as red as Edelgard’s face. All that time, just to reel in  _ this?  _ Her catch looked more like an insect than a fish. It squirmed on her hook, pinching at the air with its claws as its long whiskers shivered in the air. Just looking at it made Edelgard want to throw it back into the lake. 

“Uhm… Well, it’s something,” Dorothea said, trying to be helpful, though Edelgard could tell she wanted to laugh with Lysithea. “At least you didn’t end up with nothing, Edie.”

Petra diligently pulled a book from her satchel and slammed it onto the pier. On its leather surface it read:  _ The Complete Guide to Fodlan's Wildlife. _ “The knowledge is here,” she told them, hurrying through the pages. 

Edelgard frowned as her mysterious catch continued to flail, glaring sideways as Lysithea was laughing to tears. “Alright, alright, it’s not that funny…” 

“You’re right! It’s hilarious!” Lysithea almost doubled over from laughing so hard. 

“Here! It says… Caledonian Crayfish?” Petra tilted her head and brought the book to show Edelgard the picture. Sure enough, it featured the exact creature caught on her hook. Behind her, Edelgard could see Dorothea covering her mouth to try and stop herself from laughing. Petra smiled apologetically, though it looked like she held back laughter too. She offered reassurance, saying, “You are full of amazement for catching something on your first of tries!” 

Edelgard looked from the book to her crayfish and back again. All four young women sat on the pier, watching the poor creature squirm on her hook. Then, they all started laughing together, so that it echoed throughout the docks. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t good at fishing, she realized. She had fun doing it. 

“Alright!” Sir Shamir called from the tackle-house. “The Fishing tournament is over. Bring up your catches for review.” 

“Wait, I’m supposed to  _ show _ this thing to them?” Edelgard said, blushing red.

“Yes. We must show our fish so we can see who has the biggest size,” Petra said as she helped Edelgard get her crayfish off its hook. It plopped into Edelgard’s bucket with a sad  _ thunk.  _ “Sir Shamir is great with fishing, so she will be judging us.” 

“Is it too late to just throw mine back in the water?” Edelgard asked. Embarrassment felt hot as it rose up her neck. She had to adjust her scarf in order to cool down. 

“Come on!” Lysithea urged, standing up. “You can’t give up now!” 

Edelgard stood with her, sighing. “You’re right.” 

Dorothea and Petra walked together, leaving the pier. Lysithea ran after them. Laughter still lingered in her eyes. Edelgard smiled as she followed after them with her pole in one hand and her bucket in the other. At the end of the pier, the tournament participants gathered around Sir Shamir, each showing off their catch as she took down their names and scores. By the time it was Edelgard’s turn, she thought she’d die from the embarrassment that burned inside of her. 

With a glum expression, she held up her bucket for Sir Shamir to review.

“Edelgard von Hresvelg,” Sir Shamir murmured, sounding bored as she found her name on the list. She took her bucket and peered into it. With quirked a brow, she saw the crayfish wriggling within. “Uh-huh… Thanks for participating.”

Edelgard could not find her friends fast enough as she left her crayfish with Sir Shamir. She stood beside them in the crowd, feeling Dorothea squeeze her shoulder playfully as Sir Shamir tallied the last of the scores. Lysithea was still giggling every now and then, casting impish glances Edelgard’s way. 

“The scores have been counted,” Sir Shamir announced. The crowd cheered loudly, despite the lack of cheer in the judge’s expression. She raised her hand for silence. Once it was given, she continued, “The winner of the fishing tournament is… Byleth Eisner!” 

Good-natured cheers erupted from the crowd. Some looked too drunk to even know who they were cheering for. Others looked disgruntled, offering only half-hearted claps. Edelgard watched, feeling her heart flutter, as Byleth parted the crowd to claim her prize. It looked like her and Sir Shamir were having a contest to see who could look the least enthusiastic. Byleth accepted her medal with a vacant expression as Sir Shamir bestowed it upon her with a listless face. Edelgard found herself clapping for her, smiling. 

As the crowd slowly dispersed, Edelgard felt her spirits remain lifted. She actually had… fun. “Thank you so much for teaching me how to fish, Petra,” Edelgard said. 

“I had fun doing the teaching, Lady Edelgard,” Petra said. 

“I didn’t know you were participating.” Byleth approached them, speaking coolly. “Did you end up catching anything good?” 

Edelgard looked up at her teacher and quickly looked away. “Nothing worth bragging about.” 

Lysithea giggled as Byleth looked down at Edelgard quizzically. “That’s fine. I caught plenty of fish for us to cook tonight.” 

Edelgard coughed as she choked on her own spit. “Cook?!” 

Byleth raised her brows, looking even more confused. “Dorothea said you and Lysithea wanted to cook with me in the Dining Hall tonight.” 

“Dorothea said…” Edelgard fixed Dorothea with a glare, only to see her smiling and waving, whisking Petra off. She had to swallow the urge to chase after her and scorn her.

“Have fun, Edie!” Dorothea called back to her, smiling playfully. 

Lysithea crossed her arms. “Must we cook fish? I was hoping we’d bake a cake or something…” 

“Maybe if there’s time afterward we can,” Byleth offered. She nodded to Edelgard. “Are you ready?”

Edelgard gazed up at Byleth, finding more to love than resent in those deep blue eyes. How could she say no? She brought her scarf up over her nose, hiding her blush as Lysithea started tugging on her sleeve, urging her to go. Cooking seemed innocent enough. Straightforward. Dorothea was right, she could not avoid Byleth forever. She didn’t want to. As she stood there, she knew with every passing day she rode closer to the horizon. Soon, the sun would set on her time here in the Academy. Her time with her Black Eagles. Her time with Byleth. 

So, why not enjoy the time she had left? 

“I'm ready,” Edelgard murmured, smiling. “Let’s go.”   
  



	25. Divine Essence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard, Lysithea, and Byleth go to the Dining Hall to prepare a meal together. An unexpected guest arrives to ruin Edelgard's appetite.

“Why can’t we enjoy the divine essence of the heavens?” 

Lysithea’s protest was nearly drowned out by the commotion within the Dining Hall. As Edelgard set foot within, she was greeted by the echoes of laughter and buzz of conversation from the tables. Silverware clattered against plates as people wined and dined each other, sharing their triumphs and sorrows over a hot meal. The plenty of the Great Harvest was most obvious within the hall, for each table donned a cornucopia bursting with squash, corn, gourds, pomegranates, and other spoils from the fields across Fodlan. An altar of food rested at the front of the Dining Hall, where a line of hungry mouths waited to fill their plates with sweet potato mash, buttered corn on the cob, roast duck, and pork steak with apples. The warm aroma wafting in the air smelled of cinnamon and butter and herbs as the autumn dishes continued to be prepared in the kitchens. 

“Don’t be so dramatic. You can grab a cookie or something once we’re done,” Edelgard chided, making Lysithea pout. “If we don’t make use of this fish now, it’ll go to waste.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Lysithea grumbled.

Byleth led them to an elderly woman standing before a large oak shelf stuffed with cookbooks; she wore a simple beige cotehardie and an apron that held cooking utensils and fresh herbs in its deep pockets. She was a comely woman with kind green eyes and wheat-colored hair hidden partially by a white-cloth coif. When she smiled her face wrinkled with joy. “Good evening, Byleth,” she greeted as they approached. “I see Sothis blessed you with plenty of fish today.” 

“Sothis had nothing to do with it, Pomona,” Byleth said flatly, holding up her bushel of pike for the elder to admire. 

“Will you be cooking with these today?” Pomona asked, laughing. It seemed she was not taken back by Byleth’s comment like Edelgard was. 

Byleth nodded. “Yes. Can you pick out a good recipe for us?” 

“Us?” Pomona’s kind eyes fell upon Edelgard and then Lysithea. “Ah, I see you brought some helping hands. Welcome, ladies.” She gave a half-bow. “I must say, if your teacher fights half as well as she cooks, you’ll never lose a battle.” She smiled fondly up at Byleth like a grandmother would adore their grandchild. Edelgard’s eyes widened with surprise when Pomona pinched Byleth’s cheek fondly. “She comes to visit me almost daily. I’d be so lonely without her company.” 

Edelgard smiled graciously, stealing a glance at Byleth. She never thought of her teacher as a cook nor a fisherman, but it seemed she excelled at being both. The enigma surrounding Byleth only seemed to thicken over time. Her image of a battle-hardened mercenary was juxtaposed with this new side of her. 

“Can you pick out a dessert recipe too?” Lysithea called after Pomona, though the elderly woman did not seem to hear her as she rummaged through the bookshelf. 

“You cook here everyday?” Edelgard asked, looking up at Byleth quizzically. 

Byleth shrugged. “Whenever possible.” She gazed down at Edelgard and surprised her with a half-smile. “I like to cook.” 

Edelgard could not help but smile too.  _ That’s cute, _ she thought.

Strangely enough, now that they were together, standing beside one another, Edelgard felt like her wounds mended. Brushing off their kiss and her feelings for Byleth scathed her, and she distanced herself for an entire week while she licked her wounds. She never thought the healing she needed would come from the very woman that she sought to avoid. The warm candlelight of the Dining Hall suddenly felt warmer. 

“Alright, ladies, how does this one sound?” Pomona returned from her search with a massive cookbook. She read from it proudly, “Pan-fried pike over a lentil salad. I happen to have some extra lentils that have already soaked and are ready for cooking.”

“May I?” Byleth stood beside Pomona, reading over the recipe diligently. She squinted as she read over the recipe again and again. 

“Oh, you forgot your glasses again, didn’t you?” Pomona teased. “I’m sure one of your helpers can read it to you.”

“I don’t like carrying my glasses around. I’ve broken more than a couple pairs that way,” Byleth said in monotone. 

“Can’t break what you don’t use.” Pomona laughed. Her eyes found Edelgard. “Come here, sweetling, help your forgetful teacher read this.” 

Once Pomona handed over the recipe book, Edelgard felt her heart do the usual panic dance it did whenever she got close to Byleth. Staring down at the recipe, Edelgard struggled to comprehend what was written as Byleth stood beside her, peering over her shoulder. Was it possible to forget how to read? Edelgard’s face flushed as she nervously read and re-read the cookbook. 

“Do you need glasses too?” Byleth asked. 

“No, I just…” Edelgard scrambled for an excuse. “Want to make sure I understand what’s written before I just say it aloud.” 

Lysithea giggled. “Typical Edelgard… has to get everything right the first time.” 

Edelgard only blushed darker. “It says to soak the lentils…”

“Already done, sweetling,” Pomona said as she organized the bookshelf behind them. “You can skip to the next line.”

“Okay, uhm, next you must fillet and slice the pike for frying. It calls for carrots, celery root, onion, and potato… all of which must be washed and diced before they’re sautéed.” Edelgard felt a lump in her throat form when she realized the majority of the instructions meant nothing to her. She had not the slightest idea what it meant to cook. “Then it says to combine those vegetables with a list of herbs and spices to make a stock.” 

Byleth seemed satisfied with the instructions. “Sounds simple enough. We’ll take this one, Pomona,” she said. 

Lysithea crossed her arms, most likely flustered by the lack of dessert.

“Splendid! The cooking space is yours. I’ve not had anyone reserve it today,” Pomona said with a smile. She gestured to a nook that sat separate from the food altar. “Should you need anything, just call upon me. Most of your utensils should be there, ingredients as well. The soaked lentils are waiting in the stock pot.” 

Byleth made her way for the kitchen nook, leaving Edelgard with the cookbook.  _ Maybe if I keep reading over it, I’ll understand what all this means.  _ She did not budge until Lysithea tugged impatiently at her sleeve, leading her to where Byleth waited for them. Edelgard only glanced up briefly from the cookbook at her companions before she returned her eyes to the page.  _ How does one fillet? _

The pike fish waited to be cut into with glassy eyes as Byleth sat them on the wooden counter. Lysithea already got to work, retrieving the vegetables Edelgard listed off. Her hands were full of carrots, onion, celery, and potatoes which she scattered across the counter as she set them down. Byleth handed Lysithea two aprons as she approached, tying her own on once she took them.

“Edelgard.” Byleth’s voice prompted her to look up from the recipe. Behind her, she felt Lysithea help tie on her apron. “Can you help Lysithea wash and peel the vegetables? I’ll get to work on the fish.” She nodded to an iron stand. “You can set the book there, so we can reference it if need be.” 

“O-oh, yes, of course.” Edelgard set the book down, rubbing her hands on her apron nervously. They were sweaty. Why was she so nervous? Cooking was easy, right? Moving to stand beside Lysithea, she joined her in washing the produce in the water basin. 

Whenever Edelgard got the chance, she watched with awe as Byleth took a knife to the pike, carefully splitting open its belly from tail to head. In the time she took to remove the guts, roe, and gills, Edelgard managed to wash a single potato. 

“Hey, look, Edelgard,” Lysithea said. She held up a freshly washed carrot, grinning. “Doesn’t it look like it’s smiling?” 

Edelgard giggled. “It does.” 

Returning to rinsing the dirt off the vegetables, Edelgard stole a glance at Byleth again, watching as she removed the fins from the wish with precision. Then, she adjusted her knife to make an incision along the head, working the knife all the way down towards the tail.  _ Is that what fillet means? _

Byleth looked up from the pike, catching Edelgard staring. “Would you like me to show you how to do it?” 

Lysithea nudged Edelgard. “You go on ahead and help her. There’s no way I’m touching that stuff.” 

Nervously, Edelgard left the basin to stand beside Byleth. She kept a polite distance from her, but it still felt too close. The kitchen nook did not have a lot of space to go around. It only took Byleth one step for their shoulders to touch once more. She placed a clean knife in Edelgard’s palm. 

“I’ll show you how to fillet,” Byleth said. “Here, you can use this pike I’ve already prepared.” 

Edelgard gazed down at the dead fish, feeling like it gazed back at her. Byleth sounded a lot calmer when she was in the kitchen. She was nothing like the cold lecturer Edelgard knew in class. Even her eyes seemed softer as she gazed down at her and guided Edelgard’s hand to the fish. 

“First, you make an incision at the head,” Byleth instructed, pointing just below the pike’s cheek. 

As Byleth guided her, Edelgard followed. She felt oddly at ease as Byleth pressed against her. The sadness she saw in her teacher’s eyes in the bathhouse was nonexistent. Almost like it never happened. She wondered if Byleth discarded the warmth of their kiss just as easily. 

“Slide the knife along its backbone while your hand rests flat on its side,” Byleth continued. 

Wiggling her knife down the fish, Edelgard’s brows furrowed as it slipped and slid against the slimy meat. “I feel like this would be easier with an axe or something,” she grumbled. 

“An axe?” Byleth blinked in surprise. Then, a new sound followed. It was a light, gentle sound that Edelgard never thought would come from someone like Byleth. It was a  _ laugh. _

Edelgard blushed, gazing up at her teacher as she continued to laugh softly. She was not sure how to react. It was so new and so endearing, Edelgard struggled to shape words. “I… I was being serious,” she murmured.

Byleth only laughed more at that, though it was still soft, as if her body was not used to the noise either. 

Lysithea joined them, eyes wide. “What? You got the professor to laugh?” She giggled. “What did you say?” 

“I… I said it’d be easier to cut the fish with an axe,” Edelgard mumbled, embarrassed. The sound of Byleth’s laughter made her heart twist and turn with excitement. 

Shaking her head, Lysithea said, “You’re hopeless.” Her amused smile remained as she finished washing the last of the vegetables. 

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” Byleth reassured Edelgard gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It was what you said. It was funny.” 

Edelgard smiled, removing the fillet from the fish. It was jagged and untidy, unlike Byleth’s pieces, but it looked passable. She placed her hand on her hip, trying to contain the giddiness in her stomach. _ I made her laugh.  _ “How did I do?”

Taking her fillet, Byleth surveyed it with a pensive gaze. “You did well. Thank you, Edelgard. How about you help Lysithea peel those vegetables while I finish up here?”

Edelgard set her knife down on the cutting board, nodding. She hurried back to the water basin to rinse her hands, unable to stop the butterflies from swarming her stomach. No matter how big of a barrier she put between her and Byleth, it always ended up crumbling down. She tried to think of another time she felt this  _ warm _ . Her mind treated her to a dull memory. It came with the whisper of birdsong and a warm breeze on her face. A young boy with bright blue eyes stood before her, stumbling. He had sunlight in his hair. They were dancing, spinning. What was his name? Edelgard blinked, trying to recall more, but the memory slipped from her mind like the skin from the carrot she peeled. It fell far away until it no longer felt like her own memory. 

It belonged to a different girl in a different time. 

Shaking her head from the fuzziness of her past, Edelgard returned to the present, still managing to smile. She peeled away at the vegetables, slowly beginning to understand why Byleth enjoyed this passtime. The background noise of the Dining Hall became a sweet song that lulled her. The sweet and savoury aroma from the kitchens placated her. Her hands worked at preparing the food; for once they did not strain from the effort of wielding a quill or axe. A new sense of tranquility settled on her nerves, saccharine and soothing like honey. 

“Who taught you how to cook, my teacher?” Edelgard asked.

Byleth cleaned the fish fillets in a separate sink by the cutting board. “No one taught me. I just learned over time.” She paused, looking up at Edelgard and Lysithea. “Is it customary to have someone teach you how to cook?”

“Not for us,” Lysithea chimed in. “We usually have chefs that prepare our meals. The only time I was ever in the kitchen was when I was sneaking extra sweets.” 

“She’s right. It’s not typical for nobles to cook their own dishes,” Edelgard said. “Though, I am finding myself enjoying this, kind of…” 

“Me too. It’s relaxing.” Lysithea smiled as she peeled a potato. 

__

“When I was small, before I could wield a sword, I did the cooking while Jeralt was away on campaigns,” Byleth said. “I made sure he always had a meal when he came home..” 

“Why do you call him Jeralt, Professor?” Lysithea asked. “Why not Father or Dad or something?” 

“I used to call him Dad, but once I chose to take up the sword and fight by his side that had to change.” Byleth took to cutting the fillets into smaller slices. Her expression became cold again.

“Why? It’s not like he stopped being your father.” Lysithea quirked a brow, not understanding.

“He will always be my father, but he cannot be so on the battlefield. I learned that lesson during my first real mission as a mercenary,” Byleth said. 

Edelgard wondered how young Byleth was when she first started fighting. A voice inside her head suggested it was best not to ask. She had an ominous feeling that Byleth’s career started at an age far too young to be killing. 

“Jeralt was cornered by these two bandits, and I thought he was finished. I didn’t know what to do, so I called out to him, I called for ‘Dad.’ I couldn’t help it… I thought I would lose him, and I wanted him to know I was there.” Byleth stared down at the fish, taking a break as her thoughts consumed her. “Everything changed after that. The bandits started targeting me… I was often outnumbered and Jeralt had to fight twice as hard to keep them off of me.” 

Edelgard frowned. “I don’t understand, calling out to your father shouldn’t change the battle.”

Byleth’s eyes met hers and she said, unfeeling, “It seems small, but Jeralt explained it to me after we defeated them. ‘Our enemies lust for the blood that runs thickest.’ Once the bandits knew I was Jeralt’s daughter, they targeted me, wanting to hurt him where it hurt the most. He was our leader after all, and I was his weakness... the hole in his armor.”

“That’s scary,” Lysithea murmured. She finished peeling the vegetables and was openly staring at Byleth with sympathy, though their teacher was not receptive of it. 

“After that, I promised myself I would only ever call him Jeralt. It’s safer that way.” Byleth bent over, retrieving a large pot from the lower cabinets. She walked across the nook with it, setting it on the stove beside the lentils. “It’s always been my sword, Jeralt, and myself. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“That’s not all you have, Professor!” Lysithea protested lightheartedly. “You have us now.”

Edelgard smiled, trying to hide the sadness she felt for Byleth. “Lysithea’s right. You’re not alone, my teacher.” 

Byleth looked up from the pot as she filled it with vegetable stock. A small smile fluttered across her face, though her eyes looked sad once they fell upon Edelgard. “Perhaps you’re right.”

The liquid within the stock pot came to a boil, belching steam. Byleth turned to ladle some of the lentils within it. Edelgard watched her as a silent longing crept up and urged her forward. Before she realized what she was doing, she stood beside Byleth, admiring her work. Byleth glanced at her only briefly as she reached for the spice rack by the stove, adding marjoram, garlic, an orange peel, and a cinnamon stick to the brew with swiftness. 

“It smells great,” Edelgard praised gently. 

“Thank you.” Byleth hesitated, as if she wanted to say something more, only to leave Edelgard’s side. She patted Lysithea’s head. “How about we dice these vegetables now, hm?” 

Edelgard listened as Byleth and Lysithea worked together. Lysithea discussed the best conjuring practices for black magic while Byleth nodded every now and then, only speaking a word or two in-between. Calmness greeted Edelgard as she stirred the pot every now and then, not letting the contents burn at the bottom. Steam wafted before her eyes, cradling her face soothingly with a pleasant aroma. She heard Byleth mention dusting the fillets and frying them; before long the sizzle of oil on a griddle followed. Lysithea hopped over, putting the cut up vegetables into the pot. Edelgard smiled to herself as she stirred in the ingredients, allowing her mind to fantasize about chilly autumn days spent indoors among the warm amber glow of candlelight; her ambitions were realized, there was no war, and she spent her days just like this, cooking with Byleth and Lysithea, having not a care in the world.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Byleth said, covering the pan that held the fried fish. “I told Lysithea we could have dessert first, though. So, we’re going to get the…” She gazed down at her student. “What’d you call it?” 

“Divine essence of the heavens!” Lysithea exclaimed, eyes bright. 

“Dessert first?” Edelgard frowned, but relented with a sigh. “Fine, go ahead. I’ll stay here and make sure nothing catches fire.” 

Lysithea left, beaming. Byleth followed after her, glancing meaningfully at Edelgard, but once again not saying anything more. Left alone in the nook, Edelgard took to stirring once more, sighing softly. Byleth wanted to tell her something, she could sense it. It frayed her nerves to imagine what it could possibly be that she wanted to say. 

“I never thought I’d find you in the kitchen.” A lilting voice tickled Edelgard’s ear unpleasantly, shaking her out of reverie. She gazed up from the stock pot. Through the steam she saw a pair of hauntingly familiar ruby-red eyes glinting back at her. 

“What do you want, Monica?” Edelgard faced the snake. She glanced behind Monica, growing concerned. How did she not notice her approach? Where was Hubert? 

“If you’re looking for your dog, you won’t find him here.” Monica had the sense to speak in low tones, but her whispers sounded more like hisses. “I sent him sniffing on a trail that leads to a dead end. I’m sure he’ll come to realize it soon enough.” She shrugged, giggling softly. “I must say, he’s good at what he does. It took me near a fortnight to figure out he was tailing me, no doubt on your orders.”

Edelgard glared at Monica. Wherever Hubert was, he was not where she needed him most. It made her insides liquify to be trapped under Monica’s unblinking stare, but she steeled her expression with a pleasant smile. “I did order him to shadow you,” she said. “Your lot has proven to be decidedly untrustworthy.”

“You wound me, Edel. I’m here to help you remember?” Monica leaned over the counter, lips still curled in an unnatural smile.

“Help me or help Tomas?” Edelgard wondered, not shying away as Monica’s face neared her own. 

“What difference does it make?” Monica scoffed, leaning back once more. Her Cheshire grin only became more severe. “We all have similar interests, don’t we?”

“Your definition of ‘similar’ leaves a lot to be desired,” Edelgard said. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you and I are the same. You are a liaison, nothing more.”

“Then allow me to be one,” Monica growled. She waved happily at some students passing by, disguising her growing agitation. “You must have some juicy tidbits to divulge to me by now, yes? What, with all the time you’re spending with our dear professor…” 

Edelgard was unmoved, glaring levelly at Monica. To find her intimidating would mean admitting her slithering allies had dominion over her. The idea only kindled her obstinance. “I do have some information, actually.” She smiled graciously at the snake. “In exchange, I’m sure you have your  _ own _ juicy tidbits to divulge to me, hm? What, with all the time you’re spending with Tomas…” 

Monica narrowed her glassy eyes. A laugh slithered from her curled lips. “I like you, Edel. You know how to play.” She nodded. “Let’s do a trade, then?”

“Let’s.” Edelgard had to think carefully. She needed to unveil just enough to satisfy the hungry snake; if she failed, she would go slithering for more prey. If she revealed too much, however, she could put Byleth in danger. “In my moons observing the professor, I’ve learned that her strength and skill has no parallel. Time and time again, she’s proven she cannot be beaten. I, on the other hand, can be beaten, and she knows this. On more than one occasion, she’s put her life on the line for me, risking life and limb to keep me safe.”

“You’re talking in riddles, Edel.” Monica’s smile became cruel. “I love riddles.”

Treading carefully, Edelgard worded her next words with intent. To keep the truth guarded and Byleth safe, it had to be said. “She does have a weakness.” Edelgard smiled, swallowing her sadness. “Her weakness is me.”

“Hm, now that _ is _ interesting,” Monica purred, licking her lips. “Delectable.”

“That is why I’ve not ordered any harm to come to her. As long as I have her trust, she won’t hurt me; we can continue to carry out our operations as normal.” Byleth’s real weakness would be safe for now, as long as Monica took the bait. Edelgard would happily remain her shield; Those Who Slither in the Dark would never put her in harm’s way, not after all the work they’d done to craft her in their image. Yet, she could not help but feel like she made a mistake in her desperation to throw them off Byleth’s tail. “You need not worry yourself over her any longer. I have her under control.”

Monica tapped her lip, chewing on the information. Her eyes flashed. “Now, it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

“It is.” The steam wafting between them grew thicker, more pungent. Edelgard had to squint to see through it.

Monica’s smile did not move as she spoke. “Tomas has a very different theory about our professor. You see, he’s studied humans for hundreds of years, and he’s come to find that they’re all the same, really.” 

“Now who’s speaking in riddles?” Edelgard frowned. 

“Pinpointing one concrete weakness in a person, well, that’s like finding a needle in a haystack, isn’t it? One would have to be close, no, _ intimately _ close to learn another’s  _ true _ weakness. We can hypothesize and estimate, but we’ll never know the truth... You and I, we just don’t have time for that.” Monica’s eyes glowed like embers. “It’s the spirit. A human’s spirit is like glass. Everyone’s spirit can be cracked if it’s hit in just the right places… But if all those places are cracked within a short amount of time? It’ll  _ shatter.”  _

Edelgard’s blood ran cold as Monica giggled excitedly. Byleth’s spirit? What could they possibly do to break her? A cold sweat dampened her skin. Her palms felt clammy as she clenched her fist. Her mind reeled with the possibilities. 

“Isn’t this great? Collaborating is so much fun!” Monica gushed. She plucked an apple from a wicker basket of produce. She took a bite out of it, speaking as she chewed. “You keep doing what you’re doing. That woman is wrapped deliciously tight around your finger, let’s keep it that way. Tomas and I will do our part to find those lovely little sentimentalities Byleth clings to, as all humans do.”

“And what if I order you to stand down?” Edelgard grated. 

Monica hesitated, purring, “You may be our savior and salvation, Edel, but Thales is our king. These orders come from him, and Tomas and I are bound to them. Byleth will remain our target as long as he wishes so.” She reached her finger to trace along Edelgard’s jaw. “See? That was me being a liaison. I do the job quite well when you allow me to do it.” 

Edelgard pushed her hand away. It smelled like something was burning, but she could only focus on the red sheen of Monica’s eyes. “Leave me. There’s nothing more for us to discuss.” 

“But there will be in the future,” Monica pointed out with a wink. “Have a good night, Edel. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” 

Edelgard watched Monica go. She skipped through the Dining Hall, waving and smiling at confused students that she passed by. Never before had Edelgard harbored the desire to break someone’s ankles. She felt like she tried to play a game and failed. She didn’t even feel like a player. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Edelgard tried to find her center. 

“The stew is burning.” Opening her eyes, she saw Byleth gazing down at her with a cluster of sweets cradled in her arm. 

Rushing to turn the heat off on the stove behind her, Edelgard sighed. “I’m sorry. I got distracted.”

“Yeah, we saw you and Monica talking from across the hall,” Lysithea said between taking bites of a cookie. “It looked kind of intense, so Professor and I thought we’d give you space.” 

“What did she say to you?” Byleth asked, brow furrowed. 

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Edelgard said, crossing her arms. She offered them a smile, suddenly feeling very tired. “We just had a history debate, is all.”

“Monica came all the way to the Dining Hall just to have a debate with you?” Lysithea scoffed. “The girl is so strange.” 

“Well, dinner should be ready now,” Byleth said. “Are you guys ready to eat?” 

“Sure am! And then afterwards, we can have a second dessert, right?” Lysithea asked. 

Byleth held up the sweets she kept in her arm. “That’s why I brought these.” 

Lysithea clapped excitedly, running to get the cutlery for their meal. While she helped prepare the plates, Edelgard watched, not feeling hungry. To her surprise, the smell of cinnamon found her nose as Byleth held a cookie in front of her face. 

“You look like you need one,” she muttered. 

Edelgard laughed softly, unable to muster the courage to look into her eyes. “Do I?” 

“Yes.” Byleth didn’t move her hand away until Edelgard yielded and took the treat. 

“Thank you.” Edelgard took a bite from the cookie, enjoying its soft sweetness. The treat only gave her minor reprieve from the ‘debate’ she had with Monica. The longing inside her tugged at her chest, wanting to hug Byleth and find comfort in her arms again. Instead, she smiled and said, “This is just what I needed.” 

“Edelgard…” Byleth trailed off, at a loss for words once again. Her brow wrinkled as she mulled through words in her head. Edelgard could practically see the thoughts storming in her eyes. “Thank you for cooking with me.” 

“We should do it again sometime,” Edelgard said, still smiling. 

Byleth nodded quietly, avoiding her eyes. 

“Come on, you two! I can’t carry these plates by myself,” Lysithea said irritably. 

While Byleth hurried to help her with the dishes, Edelgard remained standing, thinking. The closer she got to Byleth, the more danger she put her in. Yet, the further she got from Byleth, the more vulnerable she was to the snake and her slithering friends. If Edelgard was anymore torn, she would rip in half. For now, she was still able to make a choice. She knew it was a choice she may come to regret. 

“Are you ready?” Byleth asked, offering her a plate of food. 

“Of course.” Edelgard took the plate, gazing down at the meal with a full heart. 

_ I choose her. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another kind of fluff chapter, but not really. I went back and forth on publishing this one or scrapping it completely; I decided to keep it (grudgingly) since it gives a little more insight on "Monica's" intentions because it'll be awhile before we see her again (not that I'll miss her).


	26. All That is Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard visits the smithy in Garreg Mach's marketplace. There, she encounters soldiers that served the Imperial Army in the past.

A bell rang excitedly above Edelgard’s head as she pushed open the door to the smithy. Heat wafted from a roaring brick hearth to greet her, warming her face with sultry waves. The flames smelled of burnt iron and roasted coal, warm but metallic, they impregnating the smithy with an amber glow. The firelight illuminated a seal carved into the wooden wall behind a greeting desk; the seal consisted of a hammer and chisel superimposed on an anvil. Around the seal it read: “All that is broken is not lost.” 

Menacing shadows of the unused and broken weapons hung from the wooden rafters, casting skeletal shadows against the stone floor; they stabbed at Edelgard’s feet unwelcomingly, but she stepped further inward anyway, looking around for the blacksmith. She found the smith where the sparks flew, hammering down on a piece of iron against an anvil. The blacksmith’s eyes were as black as the coal that she burned. She did not look up as Edelgard approached. She continued working as if she was the only one there. 

The bell rang again, bringing with it laughter and conversation. First entered Ferdinand; his ginger hair glowed amber like his eyes once it caught the firelight. He laughed, adjusting his red scarf so he could properly smile at Edelgard upon seeing her. Caspar bursted through next, panting and red-faced with Petra not far behind him, brushing off flakes of frost from her padded shoulders. 

“Are you four Byleth’s?” It was the blacksmith that spoke, but she still didn’t look up from the metal she worked against the anvil. 

Edelgard rubbed her arms, glad to be free of the frigid chill of the morn that stained her cheeks red. “Yes, we are supposed to be picking up our weapons today.”

“Sign your name.” The blacksmith nodded to a dogeared notebook left open on the greeting desk. 

Now that she was not laboring over the metal, Edelgard got a better look at the blacksmith’s face. Smudges of ash hid her features, but she could still see ridges of veins pulsating from her thick neck and arms. Sweat clung to her crown, dampening her wiry black hair. Edelgard glanced from her to the book, approaching it quietly. Several names were scrawled in ink on the wrinkled, yellowed sheets. Sweat stains and black blots muddled the pages, making some lines unintelligible. 

“Make sure to put your name under ‘pick-up’ not ‘drop-off,’” said the blacksmith. There was a permanent rasp to her voice, as if she swallowed gravel. “If you fuck up my log, I’ll start charging your professor extra.”

Edelgard’s expression soured. The blacksmith was as rough as the iron she struck. Neatly, Edelgard signed her name and her fellow students’ names in the appropriate spot.

“What do you all need fresh weapons for, anyway?” The blacksmith finally left her work to attend to her customers, though she didn’t look happy about it. “Aren’t you participating in that mock battle at Gronder Field?” She licked the sweat from her upper lip. “You’ll be swinging play sticks and using wooden shields, not good metal.”

“Yes, indeed, but our duties as students require working weapons to be at our disposal,” Ferdinand answered politely with a smile. Edelgard was thankful for him; she did not think she had the patience to be as cordial. Ferdinand did not falter as he continued, saying, “We must always be ready.”

“I’m well aware of what you students are up to,” she assured him brusquely. “You aren’t the first bunch of whelps to shove swords in bellies in the name of the goddess, and you won’t be the last. I just didn’t understand the rush order Byleth made… I swear, that woman has a fever for battle; she’s always around here buying the latest and greatest toy and asking me to forge better, sturdier weapons for you kids.”

Edelgard smiled fondly as the disgruntled blacksmith prattled on about Byleth. She had not the slightest idea what kind of pension her teacher got every moon from the monastery, but she had a feeling most of it went to equipment for the Black Eagles. 

“Though, I’m sure you and your friends here aren’t opposed to a surplus of weapons. You Church folk love starting wars. Stick or steel, it doesn’t matter. There’s always something to prove, someone to conquer. Nobles are no different.” The blacksmith shrugged her broad shoulders as she continued rambling, “Not that I’m complaining. Your bloody games keep me in business. All wars are good wars for a blacksmith. It’s no different for that sellsword professor of yours.”

“Don’t call her that. Our teacher is more than a weapon that can be bought,” Edelgard said. “And we don’t start wars for the folly of it. We are trying to make Fodlan a better place.”

Caspar joined her, indignant. “She’s right! Our professor isn’t a dirty sellsword! And you make it seem like nobles just sit around and gamble lives away.”

“I’m only calling it like I see it.” The blacksmith rubbed the back of her neck, frowning. “Can’t say I remember the last time I saw a sellsword offer their skill out of the kindness of their heart. And I’ve  _ certainly _ never seen someone with the power to change anything do it for the good of the people.”

“On behalf of House Aegir, I swear to you, that will change.” Ferdinand gave a bow. “When I come of age, I will uphold the noble standard. The fortunate must help the unfortunate, after all. As for the ‘sellsword’ business, I urge you to get to know our professor more before you pass judgment.” 

Edelgard repressed a loud exhale. She gazed at the blacksmith levelly. “We all share his sentiment, at least in the Empire. There will be change. I assure you.” 

“Change often charges the ultimate price.” The blacksmith read over her notebook, eyeing them with interest. “House Hresvelg, Aegir, and Bergliez, eh? I knew you were some noble kids but… Those are some hefty names to carry. I hope they don’t crush you.” She smirked. “Adulthood has a way of squashing the best of us.” Her eyes wandered to Petra, narrowing. “Can’t say I recognize your name, though. Macneary… Where are you  _ from _ , anyway?”

Before Petra could muster a reply, Caspar jumped to her defense, heated like the hearth. “Why does it matter?” 

The blacksmith shrugged. “I’d like to know the clientele I’m keeping; it’s my right as the owner of this smithy.” 

“Brigid. That is where I come from,” Petra said. “But it is the Empire I come from now.”

“I see you’ve learned the language well enough, and you’ve taken a naturalized surname too. Good, good.” The blacksmith was reassured by this. “I never understood outsiders that refused to learn our native tongue. They chose to come here, after all. It’s not that hard to assimilate.”

“What if there was no choice to be had?” Petra asked.

The twitch in the blacksmith’s expression disturbed Edelgard almost as much as Petra’s words. Before she could speak again, Ferdinand graciously intervened. “Choice or not, a small world never grows, and a world that never grows will die. We are better for our unity, stronger even.” Ferdinand said, still smiling, still patient. “Now, might I have your name, so I may thank you properly?” 

“Seppo,” she answered. “Seppo Smith.” 

“How appropriate. Seppo Smith,” Ferdinand said. “Does smithing run in your family? It is quite a respectable trade. No doubt you were apprenticed from a young age.” 

The tautness in Seppo’s muscular shoulders relaxed. “I took the surname for myself once I got certified in my trade,” she stated proudly. “I didn’t have a father to inherit one from. Before smithing, I was just Seppo.” 

Ferdinand’s surprised expression only made her more boisterous. 

“Being a bastard allowed me to forge my own life, and becoming a blacksmith saved me from myself,” she said. “I learned that under enough heat, even the crudest, roughest metals can become something great. And that even the greatest of swords will break. But what stuck with me the most was knowing that all broken swords can be made great again, if given the proper care.”

“People are no different,” Edelgard realized softly. 

“Perhaps, but people break easier than metal.” Seppo’s dark eyes fell to her feet. “Seems I caught you up in drabble. Let me grab your weapons.”

Seppo returned to the back of her shop, shouting at a smaller someone rummaging through their shiny inventory. Edelgard failed to notice the other until now. The silhouette sprung to action upon getting yelled at, sending metal and wood clattering in their haste to obey. 

Edelgard was left thinking.  _ All that is broken is not lost.  _ The motto of a certified blacksmith could easily be her own. She never beat burning metal with the blunt end of a hammer or created any weapon worthwhile; rather, she felt more like the blade to be forged. To be immersed in flames and beaten into the shape of something greater and stronger; to take a long dip in dark waters and rise again, shining; Edelgard wondered how many times she broke and had to be forged once more. She wondered how many times she would break again. 

“Here we are.” 

The blacksmith returned with a young boy at her heels. In her arms, she held two gray oil cloths enshrouding a pair of gauntlets and an axe. Tucked at her side was a freshly forged sword. Beside her, the young boy came up, struggling with a long lance. 

Seppo nodded to Ferdinand. “Give the man his lance, Iliriam.” 

The boy could not have been beyond his tenth year. He held the lance with pride despite it being twice his size. Already, the makings of a strapping smith showed in his arms. He was stocky, with a squarish face and squarer shoulders. When he handed the weapon over to Ferdinand, he hesitated and looked up at him with unblinking gray eyes. 

“I struck this,” Iliriam said. 

“I’ll strike you if you don’t just hand the damn lance over,” Seppo snapped, nudging the boy’s shoulder roughly with her elbow. “No one asked you what you struck. Give the man what he wants and get back to taking inventory.”

Watching the blacksmith bark at her apprentice made Edelgard grateful to have a professor like Byleth. Though she was cold, she was never unfairly short with them. A pang of sympathy rang out for the child named Iliriam. 

Ferdinand smiled down at Iliriam, taking the lance. He admired the craftsmanship, particularly the leaf-shaped steel head that looked sharp enough to flay a wyvern’s hide in one strike. Edelgard marveled at it as well, feeling mildly jealous she knew little of the lance. A weapon as fine as that would look good in her hands. 

“It looks splendid,” Ferdinand praised, echoing Edelgard’s thoughts. “A product of skilled hands and devoted heart… why, I daresay I’ve never seen a smith on a lordling’s payroll make something half as good.”

Iliriam cracked a small smile, ducking his head. “Thanks very much, Mister.”

Seppo’s expression soured. “Out with you now,” she ordered, sending her apprentice skittering to the back of the smithy. Her black eyes glared at Ferdinand. “You don’t need to make that boy’s head grow any bigger. He knows his worth. He just likes to get his ego stroked.”

“Any man as talented as he should be proud of his work and make it known. No one sings songs about humble men,” Ferdinand countered, still maintaining an air of politeness though Seppo continued to strike at it.

“No one sings songs about bastards or blacksmiths either,” Seppo pointed out. The angry wrinkles in her oily, ash-covered face returned. “Anyone that holds their heads high while they strike hot iron is bound to get burned by the sparks.” 

The conversation was lost on Caspar. Edelgard watching him fidget impatiently from the corner of her eye. He looked ready to dash from the smithy and take to the Training Grounds as he admired his lobstered gauntlets from beneath the oil cloth. Petra seemed just as restless, for reasons Edelgard could not understand.  _ What if there was no choice to be had _ , she said. Guilt, a familiar face, shook Edelgard’s hand in greeting. It loomed by her side as she watched Petra, whispering of her father, grandfather, and forefathers’ misdeeds to the people they subjugated. 

Edelgard distracted herself from the oppressive guilt with the interaction between Ferdinand and the grumpy blacksmith. Not once did Ferdinand falter in the face of her disagreeable character. In fact, he seemed to flourish in her challenging company. He wore the same smile in the smithy that he wore in court; it was a dashing, pleasant smile that urged even the most uncomfortable of conversations onward. Edelgard never realized how powerful his demeanor was; she was too busy playing games of graciousness on her own. Seeing Ferdinand up close and in action, charming Seppo once more, forced Edelgard to recognize him as a force to be reckoned with. He too could play the game, and he played it so well Edelgard did not even recognize him as a player until now. She found herself smiling shrewdly. 

“Glory burns bright. We must be willing to get burned every now and then if we wish to obtain it,” Ferdinand said. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “There may be no songs for blacksmiths, but one can always be written. Perhaps the song will be of your apprentice?”

The bell in the entryway rang for the third time, announcing the arrival of two soldiers into the smithy. A whoosh of cold air followed them, ruffling Edelgard’s uniform. She looked up at them, seeing a gangly woman and a mountain of a man enter. They had only a pair of eyes between them, with the man having one missing and the woman having a grotesque scar that reduced her left into a milky ball. Both wore half helms that hid their hair and polished white armor that hid their bodies. What was not hidden were their scowls. 

“Be right with you,” Seppo murmured. She gave a half-smile and patted Ferdinand on the shoulder. “You aren’t so bad, for a noble. Maybe you  _ can _ make some changes around here...” 

Edelgard felt the presence of the knights behind her and shifted uncomfortably. Her hand instinctively found the grip of her newly-furbished axe as they continued to linger at her heels. 

“Seppo, it’s Klein,” said the mountainous soldier. “Just wanting to know if my hammer is finished.” 

“Can’t say I know a Klein,” Seppo said airily. “Maybe write your name in the log like a normal customer if you want to talk business.”

Klein shoved between Edelgard and Caspar, transforming from a mountain to an avalanche. He splayed his callused hands out on the counter. His remaining eye screwed up to glare at Seppo as his meaty fingers strangled the quil. “The log… of course.” His measured voice crawled across his cracked lips. “How rude of me.” 

Seppo crossed her arms and watched Klein scribble against the paper. 

“Thanks again,” Edelgard murmured, still gripping her axe. She gazed at Seppo from across Klein’s back, but Seppo did not gaze back; instead, the blacksmith glared down at Klein as he wrote. 

“Oh? Do my eyes deceive me?” Klein sat up from the notebook abruptly, causing the desk to shudder. He turned, eyeing Caspar with his good eye. There was a twinkle in it that made Edelgard’s palms sweat. “The pride of House Bergliez is here? I should’ve known! You have your father’s eyes.” 

“Only his eyes,” echoed the gangly woman that stood behind Caspar. Her leering smile revealed yellowed, broken teeth. “Can’t say he’s got much else.” 

“What do you two know about eyes?” Caspar snapped, digging his fingers into the oil cloth he cradled. 

Klein licked his lips, having a taste for his companion’s humor. “We know about eyes, particularly what it means to lose them. Isn’t that right, Flor?” 

“Aye, how could I forget?” Flor’s yellow smile cracked wider as she ran her boney finger beneath her blind eye. 

In one step, Klein was standing over Edelgard and Caspar, while Ferdinand and Petra watched with growing alarm. “What do you know of loss?” 

Edelgard remained beside Caspar, grabbing his arm meaningfully. “Do not let him bait you,” she warned through gritted teeth. 

“I’ve fought in battles, same as you!” Caspar retorted, shoving off Edelgard so he could square his shoulders before Klein. 

“Ah, taking after your father, I see.” Klein scratched his chin thoughtfully. “And yet… you’re holed up in this monastery playing school, while Balthasar takes up the mantle of House Bergliez.”

“What do you know of my brother? Of my family?” Caspar growled. 

“We know plenty. We lost our eyes fighting for your father, fighting for the Empire.” Klein’s eye slid to Edelgard then. “That was back when we served as mercenaries of the Soldiers of Fortune, though. We’ve found more of a steady income since then.” He brushed his knuckles against his polished white breastplate meaningfully. “Can’t say I don’t miss it, that mercenary life… Never knowing when your next battle will occur or if you’ll survive it.”    
  


The Adrestian Empire was no stranger to supplementing its ranks with mercenaries, Edelgard knew that. Yet, seeing one in the flesh having served her country in the past now working for Garreg Mach shook her. Whatever this Klein character knew of the Imperial Army, or worse, the Houses that built her empire, could easily be used against her in the future. 

“You fought alongside my father?” Caspar’s eyes widened with disbelief. “When?” 

“During the Dagda and Brigid War,” answered Flor. “It was a fantastic feat, crushing the armies of two nations. Melichior was brilliant in that battle. Your father led us to victory.” 

Caspar’s face pinched up at the mention of the war and his father. There was a wild flash of alarm in his eyes, and they grew wider when his stare fell on Petra. “I wouldn’t call it brilliant,” he muttered. 

“There is no other word for it. Prince Petros was a fierce opponent. Although he was Brigidian, I’d say he was one of the finest sword-users I’ve ever seen. The Imperial Soldiers called him The Unbreakable, until he was skewered by Melchior’s lance, that is.” Klein chuckled, giddy with nostalgia, while Edelgard grew nauseous. “What did that prince’s surname mean in  Bríg, again?” Klein asked, looking to Flor. “Mandrapilias?”

“It is meaning ‘wall of stone,’” Petra said quietly. She was staring at her new sword as she spoke, eyes glazed over.  _ “Na zísis,”  _ she whispered to herself, shutting her eyes.

“That’s it! Prince Petros Mandrapilias! The Unbreakable Wall of Stone! ” Klein exclaimed, laughing. “Then again, anyone is a wall of stone until they take on Count Bergliez!” 

“All those Brigidians turned yellow-bellied once they lost their precious prince,” Flor added ruthlessly.

“Petra,” Edelgard murmured, feeling her heart leap to her throat. Whether Petra knew the truth behind her father’s demise, she was uncertain. She had a horrible suspicion this was the first she heard of it. She glared at the soldiers. “Watch your tongues,” she said, though her nerve started to wane. How could she defend a nation her own father sought conquered? What right did she have to speak on their behalf? She realized her guilt did not matter; silence was just as harmful. “The Brigidians are a proud and strong people. The root of that war is drenched in blood. To regale it with fondness is disrespectful to those that lost their lives on  _ both _ sides. Instead of crowing over what you think you’ve won, I entreat you to over ponder what was lost. Human life, no matter the origin, is valuable. What we choose to live and die for is the beauty and tragedy of freedom, for that means we have a choice.” 

“Strong, maybe, but I saw no pride that day,” Flor rasped. Edelgard’s words did little to penetrate her leathery hide. “Soldiers that turn tail as soon as they lose favor on the field are better off slaves. They have no honor, no courage, no commitment to any cause.”

“Stop speaking of my father as if you know him. And stop speaking of the Brigidians that way,” Caspar growled. His entire body trembled with rage. “What my father did--he… It was…” 

“It won the war is what it was,” Klein said. His thick fingers hooked around Caspar’s shoulder. “You should take pride in that, in him. He’s a hero.”

“How could I?” Caspar snapped. “He killed…” His eyes desperately searched Petra’s face, but she refused to look at him, at anyone. “Petra, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner, I did, I just… I never got the chance! Please.” 

Petra shook her head. There was silence until the bell rang, signalling her exit. 

“Wait! Petra!” Ferdinand went after her in a hurry, nearly dropping his new lance in his fumble to follow her.

When the door shut again, nothing but the crackling fire in the hearth was left speaking. It felt hotter than before, unbearably so. Edelgard adjusted her scarf, seeing the snow fall from outside the fogged up windows. Petra was long gone. A part of her also wanted to go after her, but a voice inside her head urged her to remain with Caspar. 

“Petra?” Klein echoed. His eye widened as soon as he realized. “What a turn of fate! To think that prince’s flesh and blood is here of all places.” 

Flor curled her lip, glaring at the door. “Didn’t know he had a whelp. I should’ve known she was one of them. Didn’t you see her hair?” 

Caspar snapped, “You both are no good. Gloating over another man’s death and preaching about a victory that was not your own. You’re pathetic.” 

“Yeah? And what are you?” Klein scoffed. “Better?” He belched out in laughter. “Melichior is lucky he has Balthasar to take over his title. You clearly aren’t up to snuff. You’re soft.” 

“I don’t want his titles,” Caspar growled. “And I definitely don’t need a man like you telling you my worth. I know who I am and what I want to be. And I’ll become a man far better than you ever will.”

“What’s a Brigidian doing at this school, anyway?” Flor asked, not paying any attention to Caspar’s mounting anger. “Does Lady Rhea know what she is?”

“Enough!” Seppo snapped. She pointed at the door. “All of you, out! You’re disturbing my peace. If you want to talk politics, take it outside.” 

“We’ll be retrieving our weapons another day, Seppo,” Klein said. He gave one last glare at Caspar before leaving. Flor was not far behind him. 

Caspar was still shaking after they left. His hands were bunched into white-knuckled fists around his gauntlets. “They’re no good. I knew it as soon as they walked in. My instincts are never wrong.” 

Edelgard rested her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off. “Caspar, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to Petra’s father, you know that. It was beyond our control.” 

“I don’t care! She didn’t deserve to find out that way. I should’ve told her, but I never worked up the courage. We make such a good team. I didn’t want to lose that. I didn’t want her to hate me.” He shook his head. For once, his face was not creased with anger. He looked like a boy again. “I’m so selfish.”

“What’s done is done, there’s no dwelling on that now. We can’t change the past, but we can make up for it in the future.” Edelgard tried to meet his eyes, but Caspar continued to glare at his gauntlets. 

“Those soldiers disgust me.” He gripped his weapons. “My father… Everyone thinks he’s a war hero. My brother wants to be just like him. And they have people like _ that _ looking up to them?”

“And what do you want to be, Caspar?” Edelgard asked. 

“I want to be good.” Caspar looked up from his gauntlets. “And I want to bring to justice those who aren’t.” 

Fear stabbed Edelgard’s stomach, turning her innards to ice. “Caspar, don’t--” 

Before she could say anything else, he was gone. The ringing bell felt far away. Outside, the snow fell more fiercely. Edelgard watched it fall alone in the smithy. Her legs refused to move at first as the whiplash of her encounter with the soldiers took hold. For the rest of her life, she would feel the effects of her lineage. The decisions she would make would inevitably be rooted in blood as well. There was no escaping her destiny. She was born in the purple, and she would die in the red. 

“Caspar!” Edelgard went after him. There was no use in reflecting on her fate, on the fate of her country. She accepted the cost of the crown long ago. “Caspar!” 

The frigid air burned her lungs. Around her, only a handful of souls lumbering about in heavy coats. Billows of frost escaped their lips from the hoods that hid their faces. Powdery snow dusted their shoulders and the cobblestones at their feet. Any noise was swallowed by the cold. Edelgard felt more like she entered a purgatorial realm than Garreg Mach’s marketplace. If not for Caspar’s distant holler, Edelgard would have remained trapped in the gray. 

As Edelgard ran out the portcullis, following Caspar’s voice, the crowd thinned. The village of Garreg Mach Proper was all but empty. Only the black plumes escaping the crooked smokestacks betrayed life within the surrounding buildings. The echoes of her footsteps faded fast as she turned through the alleys. Her panting sounded louder than normal. She felt it in her head, her chest. “Caspar!” 

“Lady Edelgard?” It was Hilda that stopped her. 

Edelgard caught her breath, trying to ignore the icy burning in her chest. “Hilda? What is it?” Impatience caused her face to twitch. “Whatever it is, it’ll have to wait. I’m trying to find Caspar. It’s--” 

“Yeah, I already found him.” Hilda nodded behind her. “He’s looking rather ghoulish. I tried to help him best I could, but…”

Edelgard’s heart sank. “What happened?” 

Hilda ducked her head, looking sheepish. “Well, I  _ tried  _ to stop him. But you know Caspar. He’s always picking fights. He took on these two rough-looking soldiers bare-handed! He had these gauntlets too, but he refused to use them. He said it wouldn’t be a fair fight seeing as how they didn’t have weapons of their own.” 

“Is he okay? Why did you leave him?” Edelgard demanded.

“Sheesh, I’m not  _ that _ heartless. I was actually trying to find help. He needs an infirmary. He got really hurt. I don’t even know why he bothered; he was outnumbered!” 

“Where is he?” Edelgard looked around frantically. 

Hilda gestured behind her. “He’s in that alley over there.”

“Go find Byleth” Edelgard ordered. “I’ll see to him now.”

“Fine, fine… You know, it wouldn’t kill you to say please,” Hilda muttered. 

Edelgard had no time for pleasantries, she was already heading for the alley. She found Caspar sitting on a disheveled crate, head bowed. Even from the end of the alley, she could see his swollen eye. His knuckles, once white, blistered with purple bulges. Blood dripped from his nose to melt the thin snow at his feet. 

“Caspar!” Edelgard hurried to his side. 

Caspar glanced at her, fidgeting in his seat. “Hey.” 

“What were you thinking?” she scorned. “Taking on two fully-trained soldiers, bare-handed?!” 

“Can you not talk so loud?” Caspar winced. “You’re making my head hurt.” 

“How could you be so reckless? I’ll never understand. You didn’t need to pick a fight with them. I was planning on submitting a formal complaint to the Knights of Seiros regarding their behavior. This could’ve been solved without any violence--” 

“That’s your problem, Edelgard,” Caspar interrupted. “You always have to make it about you and what  _ you _ should do. What’s so wrong with me standing up for what’s right?” 

“Standing up for what’s right will never be wrong, but it’s how you stand that makes the difference,” Edelgard said. “You fighting those soldiers did nothing.”

Caspar spat, more blood raining from his lips. He refused to look at Edelgard. 

“Where are they?” The sound of Byleth’s cold, monotone voice echoed down the alley. She stood, cape ruffling like a living shadow behind her, and glared at her students. 

Edelgard stood upright, nodding to her professor. Seeing her brought a wash of relief. “Professor, I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped him.” 

“Stopped me? They deserved it! They way they talked about Brigidians and how they treated us, they should’ve gotten worse than just a beating!” Caspar argued.

Byleth stood before Caspar so swiftly, Edelgard thought she crossed the alley in one step. Kneeling down to his level, her blue eyes burned into him as she searched his face. Hand raised, it glowed with a white light as she brought it gently to his bloodied face. The angry purple bruises began to fade and the cut in his lip shut. “Where are the soldiers that did this?” she asked. 

A chill ran down Edelgard’s spine. The way Byleth looked, jaw tight and eyes burning, made every instinct in her scream. The pale light made her expressionless face look fiercer.

Caspar ducked his head. “It doesn’t matter. They look worse than me.” 

Edelgard did not believe that for a second.

“Where are they?” Byleth asked again, voice colder than before. 

In defeat, Caspar nodded to the other end of the alley. “They went off that way, but they’re probably long gone now. You don’t need to talk to them. They don’t listen to reason.” 

Wordlessly, Byleth stood. She only spared Edelgard a glance before saying, “Take him to the infirmary. We’ll discuss this later.” 

“Professor,” Edelgard murmured, feeling fear make its way into her heart. “Professor, what are you doing?” She followed after her, unsure if she felt fear for herself, her teacher, or the soldiers that she sought after. 

“I’m doing what must be done,” Byleth said. 

Unable to resist the way her instincts wailed, Edelgard grabbed her hand. Something inside her, that nasty fear, longed for Byleth to stay. “I don’t understand, my teacher.” 

Byleth pulled her hand away, turning to face Edelgard. “Yes you do, that’s why you’re trying to stop me.” 

“You know I can’t stop you,” Edelgard muttered bitterly, suddenly loathing her. Why was she always so impossible to reach? “All I can ask is that you don’t do this.” 

“It was already done the minute they put their hands on him.” Byleth’s eyes flashed viciously, but there was softness in her voice as she placed her hand on Edelgard’s head. “Don’t blame yourself. This is my choice.”

“Don’t go.” Was all Edelgard managed to say before she was gone. 

The air outside felt colder as she stood there, knowing exactly what Byleth was about to do and being powerless to stop it. Edelgard could never forget what was in Byleth that she feared most. Her violence. She knew it was in her from the moment they had their first battle. That violence, unbridled, could very well be at her throat one day. Yet, she found herself longing for Byleth’s safety, even against petty soldiers.  _ People break easier than swords,  _ the blacksmith’s words rang out in her head, reminding her of the truth. If Edelgard’s ambitions were to be realized, Byleth would need to be broken. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. It was a long and challenging deployment, so my updates will be slower as I get adjusted to living life normally again. I cannot thank you all enough for continuing to comment on my posts and encourage my writing. They kept me going throughout this crazy year. I look forward to finishing this story with you. I hope all of you are well and good. 
> 
> Thank you again, my readers.


	27. Way of the Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard and the Black Eagles are lectured by Byleth on matters of warriorhood.

Frost hugged the window panes, splintering like spiderwebs to conceal the outside in a blueish lustere. Edelgard admired the intricacy of the ice from her seat in the Black Eagles classroom. She was one of the first students already at their seat for the day, the only other being Flayn. If there was ever a day Edelgard wished she came to class late, today was that day. She did her best not to make eye contact with her fellow student, though she could feel Flayn patiently trying to catch her attention. Staring at ice had never been so entertaining.

“It is quite chilly this morning, is it not?” Flayn finally worked up the nerve to break the silence between them. 

Edelgard had to wonder if she meant the coldness inside the classroom that was steadily growing between them, rather than the frosty morning outside. She shrugged. “It is no different from yesterday to me.” 

Silence settled between them, heavier and colder than before as Edelgard burned a hole into the helpless window she stared through. She only felt a mild pang of guilt for deliberately robbing Flayn of conversation. There was no telling of the girl’s intentions, after all. Though she sought sanctuary in the ranks of Byleth’s students following her abduction, Edelgard suspected there was more to Flayn’s presence than a desire for education. She stole a glance at her, seeing her fidget anxiously in her chair, kicking her feet to and fro mindlessly. She seemed harmless enough, but Edelgard was not fooled. 

“Did you sleep well?” Flayn asked, braving yet another attempt at conversation. 

“I slept fine, thank you.” Edelgard gritted her teeth together, trying to curb her growing agitation. 

“That’s good.” Flayn offered a small smile that was not returned. “I am so excited to start class today! I’ve longed to enroll in the academy for some time, you see, but my brother did not allow me to until now.”

“I see,” Edelgard said, suddenly very interested in organizing her desk space. 

“I’ve heard Byleth is a fantastic professor as well. I can’t wait to learn from her. I feel like she can help me grow a great deal.” 

Hearing Flayn speak of Byleth pricked a nerve in Edelgard. She could not shake her suspicion that Flayn had an ulterior motive for joining the Black Eagles. She straightened the blank sheets of paper on her desk, and then straightened them again. What better way for Rhea to learn more about the professor than from inside the classroom? 

“She’s just so mysterious,” Flayn went on, talking more to herself than Edelgard. “I wonder, do you know how old she is?” 

_ Odd question.  _ Edelgard glanced at Flayn, feeling her suspicions grow. Memory of Byleth’s medical file invaded her mind’s eye. She remembered her age, or lack thereof. “I’ve always assumed she was only a couple years older than us. She looks pretty young.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Flayn’s finger tapped thoughtfully on the desk. “I am quite curious about her. What is she like?” 

“Why are you asking me?” Edelgard countered, growing defensive. 

“Well, you’re House Leader. I figured you would know about her more than anyone.”

_ Of course. _ Edelgard stared at the blank sheets of paper, frowning to herself. “She is very mysterious. I feel like the more I learn about her, the less I know.” A small smile found its way to her face. “I do know that she would do anything for us; she isn’t afraid to put her life on the line if it means protecting others.”

“That explains why she rescued me without hesitation,” Flayn said, also smiling. “It’s strange. She’s so mysterious, yet I feel like I’ve met her before. There’s something familiar about her.”

“What do you mean?” Edelgard asked.

Before Flayn could answer, the door to the classroom burst in, allowing the rest of the students to flood the space. They all huddled close together, eager to take shelter from the cold. First to enter was Ferdinand. Mercedes followed closely behind him, smiling pleasantly at Edelgard as she passed. They both sat behind her, talking to one another about what the galley had for breakfast. Petra came next, quietly taking her seat in the front row across from Edelgard. Sylvain and Dorothea came after, talking animatedly with each other. Dorothea took her usual seat beside Petra, greeting her with a smile that was not returned. Sylvain took a seat on the other side of Mercedes, much to Ferdinand’s dismay. Edelgard was not sure how much she’d enjoy having the three of them sit behind her. Hubert shuffled in, giving Edelgard a nod as he moved to claim his usual seat in the back of class. 

Hubert’s expression was more sour than usual, and it didn’t take long for Edelgard to see why. Slithering behind him was Monica. Her hair caught the firelight from the chandeliers above and shone like flames. Her smile was too wide to be natural as she sat beside Edelgard. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she purred. 

Edelgard did not return the greeting, for Lysithea was standing before them with a small frown. “That’s my seat,” she protested. 

“Not today, I’m afraid,” Monica said, still smiling that unnatural smile. “I still need to catch up on my studies, you see, and our dear Edel is the perfect candidate to help me.” 

Lysithea looked ready to counter, so Edelgard interjected, “It’ll only be temporary, Lysithea. As House Leader, I must assist her.”

“Fine.” Lysithea flicked her hair, hiding her defeat crossly. With her nose turned up at Monica, she said, “I’ll just join the cool kids in the back of the class.” 

Lysithea marched away to join Hubert. Shortly after, Bernadetta scurried in along with Lindhardt and Caspar. The classroom was full once the bells of the cathedral rang out the ninth hour. Class had begun, but there was no professor to teach it. Edelgard peered outside the icy windows, seeing the walkways abandoned as the time for education took hold of the Officers Academy. Byleth was never late. She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. The odds of those two soldiers taking her out yesterday were slim to none, but… what if they did overcome her by chance? 

“Edel,” Monica purred in her ear. “I have some newfound information.” 

“Then say it.” Edelgard ignored the sweat gathering in her palms. Monica was practically salivating as she held onto the information like a wolf its prey. It made Edelgard want to pry her jaws apart. 

“There was a complaint given to the Knights of Seiros yesterday concerning a disturbance out in town. Apparently, two of their soldiers caused quite a ruckus as they collided with an unknown attacker outside a local tavern. It scared quite a few folks.” The words dripped from Monica’s tongue into Edelgard’s ear, poisoning her thoughts with worry. “The cause of the brawl has yet to be disclosed, and the attacker has not been identified, but there are whispers of it being our dear professor. Those soldiers were left in pretty bad shape. Rumor has it, one of them was nearly beaten to death.” 

Edelgard’s chest burned as ice took hold within her heart. The “attacker” need not be identified. Edelgard already knew who it was. For Byleth’s sake, she decided to feign disinterest. “And this concerns me why?” 

“Perhaps our target is not as calm and collected as we suspect,” Monica whispered. “Whatever the motivation for this attack, nearly beating someone to death outside the battlefield is hardly justified, wouldn’t you say?” 

“You said that was just a rumor,” Edelgard murmured, hoping it wasn’t true. 

Edelgard didn’t want to believe Byleth was capable of such a thing, but deep down, she knew what resided within her teacher. She’d seen it come to life many times before, but never outside of battle. The look in her blue eyes as she left Edelgard in the alleyway yesterday promised vengeance for Caspar, but she never stopped to consider the length of said vengeance.  _ She would do anything for us, but at what cost?  _ Edelgard glanced at Caspar. His bruises had faded into murky yellow blotches on his face and his eye was only mildly swollen; it was a typical look for Caspar, considering his attraction to a good tussle, but Edelgard knew the story behind his wounds was very much atypical.

“Besides, there’s no telling it was actually the professor,” Edelgard added, trying to convince herself more than Monica. “As you said, this is all still conjecture. Nothing has been confirmed.” 

Monica laughed excitedly. “True, but you forget the lengths I will go to be your worthy informant.” She leaned in, lips grazing her ear as she spoke. “I found her yesterday. I found Byleth.”

“What do you mean?” It took everything in Edelgard to prevent her voice from trembling. 

“I sniffed her out once I caught wind of what went down in town, and sure enough, I found her hiding away in the stables. She was washing her hands out in a bucket there.” Monica laughed again. “There was blood. A lot of it. Once I caught a glimpse of her knuckles and saw how swollen they were, I knew it. I knew it was her.”

Edelgard’s throat felt dry. She already knew it was Byleth that went after the soldiers, but somehow hearing it made it more real. It confirmed the fear sitting heavy as a stone in her gut was not without good reason. Byleth would do anything for them, but what would she do when they were no longer hers to do anything for? What would she do when Edelgard finally turned her back on everything and everyone? 

“The most curious thing I saw, though, was not the blood or her knuckles,” Monica continued softly. “It was her hands. They were shaking.” A hiss that could’ve been another laugh left her lips. “There may be a shred of humanity in that woman after all.”

“I know there is,” Edelgard said, feeling sadness creep up on her. It would be easier to define Byleth as an enemy if she just remained the Ashen Demon, an emotionless behemoth. The closer she got to Byleth, the more she realized the secret fire she held within and how brightly it burned for others. Seeing it come to light when she was around her and the other students gave Edelgard a newfound sense of adoration for the enigmatic woman. The idea of putting that flame out brought Edelgard a new kind of pain. 

“Don’t fret, Your Highness. We are doing our best to figure her out on your behalf.” Monica gasped. “And here she is, the woman of the hour.” 

Byleth entered the classroom, bringing with her a gust of cold air from the outside. Her eyes only settled on her students for a heartbeat before she whisked away to the front of the classroom. With a slam, she brought a leather strap book carrier on top of her desk that contained a trio of texts. Wordlessly, she began to scrawl on the chalkboard, and Edelgard quickly noticed the bandages wrapping her hands. White magic could only do so much; Edelgard knew her knuckles were probably still swollen beneath. 

“There was no preparatory reading for this week’s lesson because the reading was inconsequential,” Byleth said with her back still turned to the class. Her writing on the board was labored, but she persisted. “The assigned curriculum concerning this week’s topic is superficial overall, so prepare for a lecture I prepared in its place.” 

A chorus of shuffling occurred as the students prepared their quills and papers for note-taking. A completely oral lecture prompted several concerned glances between them, but Edelgard was more concerned by the shortness in Byleth’s tone. She sounded frustrated. 

Ferdinand’s hand was already raised by the time Byleth turned around to face the class. “I beg your pardon, Professor, but is this week not the Commandments of Chivalry? The other Houses--”

“Are irrelevant to us,” Byleth interrupted sharply. A short exhale escaped her lips as she bowed her head. “Can anyone tell me the origin behind the Commandments of Chivalry?” 

Edelgard was tempted to answer, but Ferdinand insisted on dominating the conversation. “During the War of the Eagle and Lion, Léon of House Gautier took note of the brutality on the battlefield and a lack of honor between the rebels and Imperial soldiers,” Ferdinand explained. “Upon the end of the war, the toll of human loss was far greater than anticipated. As a result, Léon devised a code of conduct that would be proposed at the negotiations for peace with the Church of Seiros and the Adrestian Empire. Ultimately, it was the Church of Seiros that ratified the code and gave it a name: the Commandments of Chivalry.

Before long, the Commandments of Chivalry were not only formally recognized, but adopted by militaries across the continent, particularly by the Knights of Seiros.” 

Byleth nodded quietly. “Thank you, Ferdinand. Now, can anyone recall these commandments?” 

“I recall them all too well,” Sylvain drawled. “They’re inscribed on every pillar of my abode, after all.” 

“The floor is yours, Sylvain,” Byleth said. 

“There are seven commandments,” Sylvain began. “First, ‘thou shall believe all that the Church of Seiros teaches and thou shalt observe all its directions.’ Second, ‘thou shall defend the Church of Seiros.’ Third, ‘thou shall respect all weaknesses, and shalt constitute thyself the defender of them.’” He paused, suddenly unsure as he tapped his chin. A chuckle escaped him. “The rest have escaped me. I guess the commandments weren’t written into the halls of House Gautier enough.”

Edelgard continued on his behalf, having grown impatient with the dated commandments and all that they entailed, “The fourth commands, ‘thou shall love the country in which thou wast born. The fifth is ‘thou shall not recoil before thine enemy.’” The final two commandments lit a fire within her as they left her lips. As she spoke them, she could feel Monica’s eyes burn into her. “Sixth, ‘thou shall make war against the infidel without cessation and without mercy. And finally, the seventh, ‘thou shall be everywhere and always the champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil.’”

“There you have it, the Commandments of Chivalry,” Byleth said. She left her desk, unveiling what she wrote on the chalkboard. In blocky letters, it read: The Way of the Warrior. “It is known the proprietor of the commandments, Léon Gautier, devised them with good intentions. However, there is another unuttered and unwritten code that our ancestors adhered to. Time passes, and as it passes, some things, whether it be intentionally or unintentionally, are left forgotten. The Way of the Warrior is one of those things.”

Edelgard had only a vague recollection of that phrase. Rules of engagement, the Commandments of Chivalry, and all sorts of laws jumbled in her head in a hasty effort to explain what Byleth was saying, but none of them provided the answer she sought. Around her, she noticed the other students were just as confused. 

“I’ve never heard of this,” Lysithea said. “Are you sure it’s not made up?” 

“All things are made up,” Byleth said. “While I’m not surprised the Church left out the Way of the Warrior from its teachings, I am disappointed.” She gestured to the board behind her, beneath the title seven words were listed: courage, compassion, courtesy, justice, loyalty, honesty, and honor. “The words written here are not commandments. A commandment is a rule to be followed. These words are virtues. A virtue is a quality that we must aspire to obtain.”

“Words,” Ferdinand scoffed. “These are far too open to interpretation. What is courteous to one person may be discourteous to the next.” 

“Which is why you must have the compassion to understand the difference between one person’s feelings in comparison to another,” Byleth countered. Her gaze sharpened as she addressed the class. “Please save all comments and questions for the end of the lecture.” 

Edelgard stifled a laugh as she heard Ferdinand grudgingly return to note-taking behind her. The words on the chalkboard were easy to read, but hard to understand, and even harder to achieve. How could one person obtain them all? 

“Since the dawn of time, we’ve been at war with one another. Before we could read and write, we could wield weapons to defend ourselves from others. As our ancestors killed one another, they were reminded of their own mortality. It was the impermanence of human life that inspired them to protect it.” Byleth turned back to the board, arms crossed as she read the seven words written. “These virtues were not proposed overnight by a single person. Rather, over time, warriors of ole passed down what they believed was right to other men-at-arms. Eventually, it was a culmination of these virtues that was agreed upon as the proper way to be a warrior. 

  
  


A warrior must have the courage to live freely and without fear, and the courage to defend that freedom. They must have the compassion to help those that cannot help themselves and to never turn their back on those that need them. A warrior must be courteous to others regardless of their origins or beliefs, including the enemy; they are not to disrespect the dead nor use torture as a means to an end. Above all, the warrior values justice; not only must they know the difference between what’s right and what’s wrong, but they must uphold it.” 

As Byleth lectured the Way of the Warrior, the classroom flooded with furious scribbles from the feather quills. The quills bobbed and wagged in the air as each student hurried to grasp every word the professor recited in monotone and capture it on paper accurately. Edelgard was not exempt from the flush of note-taking. The only student that seemed disinterested was Monica. From the corner of her eye, Edelgard could see her watching Byleth with her ruby-red eyes, unblinking. She was like a snake coiled patiently to strike. Even in her silence, Edelgard knew Monica wanted nothing more than to sink her fangs into Byleth’s throat. 

Byleth continued teaching, unaware of the snake pining for her downfall. She slowly paced up and down the divide between the rows of desks like a panther trapped in a cage. “For a warrior to truly achieve greatness, they must have loyalty; that is, loyalty to themselves. The ability to stay true to oneself and not disown your beliefs is invaluable. Just as invaluable is honesty. A warrior’s word cannot be taken for granted. If you vow to defend your nation or your people, your vow is unbreakable. What good is your word if you cannot keep it? 

And finally, honor.” Byleth paused, standing at the front of the classroom. “Does anyone want to explain what honor might mean to a warrior?” 

“I will.” Caspar sat upright in his chair. His jaw was set, which had to be painful considering the bruising. Edelgard saw a glare of determination in his blue eyes. “Honor means to stick to what you believe in, no matter what people say or think. Whatever situation you’re in, you gotta stay true to what’s right. The moment you back down, you lose it. That’s what it is to me.”

Byleth said nothing, but Edelgard thought she saw a ghost of a smile on her face. She nodded, finally, and said to him, “That’s right, Caspar. Honor means to stay true to your values. It is the culmination of every virtue a warrior must possess. A warrior without honor cannot be courageous or just or courteous, they cannot have compassion or loyalty or honesty. Without honor, we are nothing but murderers.”

Outside the classroom, a distorted cluster of figures huddled outside the window. Through the icy panes, they looked like nothing but smudges of shadows. Edelgard narrowed her eyes, unsure of what she was seeing. Their muffled voices permeated the classroom, low and intense, but unintelligible. The rest of the class took notice as well, exchanging confused glances and shuffling in their seats in order to get a better look. 

Byleth bowed her head, arms crossed. “There is a reason this lesson came so late in your education. You see, before you kill, these values seem tangible. It is easy to think you have honor or courage. Being loyal and honest, well, you tell yourself you’ve been taught to have those values since childhood. It is not until you have your first battle, take your first life, that you truly understand how hard it is to be a warrior. It is not until you see your comrades fall to the enemy and die in your arms that you know the weight of your duty. You will struggle to maintain these virtues for the entirety of your military career, however long it may last; and when it’s over, you’ll wonder if you lost those virtues along the way or maintained them. 

I’ve been a warrior for many years, and I still struggle to abide by the Way of the Warrior. Every day, you must recommit to these virtues. Every day, you must fight not to lose them, for you may lose yourself. 

In the end, it is up to you. Whether you choose to uphold the Commandments of Chivalry, or the Way of the Warrior, or both is ultimately your choice. That is the greatest gift of becoming a warrior: you, and only you, can choose who you will become and what you will die by.” 

The door to the classroom burst in. The glare of white armor flashed first, followed by the clanging of armor. A company of a dozen knights entered the room, fully armed, and surrounded Byleth. It was Seteth that parted the way between them. His hands were clasped together dutifully. His face creased with a nauseating combination of distress and agitation. 

“Byleth Eisner,” Seteth greeted stonily. “I apologize for interrupting your lecture, but your presence is requested by Lady Rhea in the Audience Chamber.” 

Edelgard practically jumped out of her seat, unable to restrain the wave of protectiveness that washed over her. Her hands slammed down on the desk as she glared at the knights standing ominously around her teacher. “What is the meaning of this?” 

Her question went ignored, prompting a chuckle from Monica. Her slithering companion hissed, “You know what this is about.” 

Byleth regarded Seteth’s flashy security detail with little more than a glance. She could’ve been surrounded by rabid beasts, and Edelgard knew her blank expression would not falter. “This is hardly necessary,” Byleth said. “I can escort myself to the Audience Chamber. You don’t need to disturb my students.” 

“Considering yesterday’s events, I believe this is more than necessary, wouldn’t you think?” Seteth argued calmly. “Our knights have yet to leave the infirmary after that debacle you hosted outside the tavern.” 

Caspar’s face cracked with alarm, he too stood up in his seat, gritting his teeth. “It wasn’t her fault!” he cried out angrily. 

Petra stifled her shock by bringing her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide with the realization of what was done. 

“That’s enough.” Byleth glared at Seteth. “I’ll come with you.” 

“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice.” Seteth gestured to the door, bowing only slightly to the professor. “After you.” 

The clangor of armor resumed as Byleth exited the classroom with her dozen escorts. Seteth remained as the door shut behind them, looking at the chalkboard and Byleth’s blockly handwriting. He cleared his throat and unceremoniously wiped away the words she wrote. Once he turned back around, he only stared at Flayn as he spoke. “I apologize again for this interruption, however, it has been brought to our attention that a member of our faculty acted monstrously yesterday.”

Monica could barely stifle her giggling. 

“Has the situation been taken into account?” Edelgard asked, trying to sound impartial, but failing miserably. It was more than difficult to maintain an air of nonchalance while she watched Byleth get taken away by the devils in white. 

“This is bullshit!” Caspar protested. 

“Language!” Seteth snapped.

“The professor only did what she did because of me!” Caspar’s desk rattled as he slammed his fists down onto it, startling Lindhardt. “I picked a fight with those stupid knights. I started it!” 

“Caspar,” Petra whispered in distress. 

“First of all, you don’t even understand the full situation--” 

“No, I understand. It’s crystal-clear,” Caspar retorted, interrupting Seteth. “The whole damn monastery knows what’s going on. Your knights acted like assholes and got their shit kicked in because that’s what they deserved. Now you’re just tryna cover up for them!” 

“Caspar, this is your last warning. Hold your tongue and watch your language.” Seteth’s frown was so severe it looked like it would fall off his jowls. His glaring green eyes found Edelgard. “House Leader, I encourage you to calm down your peer or I’ll have him taken to Lady Rhea next.”

“Big brother!” Flayn cried out. Her eyes were wide and glossy with tears. “Please stop this. You know Byleth wouldn’t do this without good reason. You know she’s good.”

Seteth’s face waxed with concern, polishing away his fury as soon as he stared at Flayn. “Flayn, we are working to resolve this matter. Byleth’s character is being taken into account. However, there are multiple knights coming forward with complaints against her. Even a guard from the night's watch at the bathhouse claims to have been assaulted by her.” 

Edelgard’s nerves pricked as she remembered the guard Byleth “assaulted” at the bathhouse. She recalled very nearly being assaulted herself had her professor not intervened. The unfairness of it all colored her vision red with fury. 

Monica squirmed in her seat, hissing into Edelgard’s ear excitedly, “Even these Church folk can’t control her. This woman is fantastically violent.” Ecstasy wormed out of her throat, slowly disgusting Edelgard with every word. “I cannot  _ wait _ to see how far she’ll go once we push her over the edge.” 

“Big brother, you  _ know _ Byleth. I know you do. You know she wouldn’t act this way out of sheer violence,” Flayn protested meekly, voice breaking. “Please. Don’t let them take her away.” 

“It’s true,” Mercedes piped up. “The professor may be hard to understand, but she has kindness in her. She does.”

“Yeah, Caspar’s right. This is bullshit.” Sylvain stood up, crossing his arms. “She supports us, no matter what. She has only ever done right by us.” 

“And she will continue to do right,” Ferdinand agreed. 

“She believed in me when no one else did!” Bernadetta squeaked, much to Edelgard’s surprise. Her peer was trembling in her seat as she spoke. “She never gave up on me.” 

“She would do anything for us,” Dorothea said solemnly. 

“Anything,” Petra agreed. 

Seeing her fellow classmates stand up for Byleth lit a fire in Edelgard. Still standing, she addressed Seteth with icy composure, “What is the punishment, should Rhea find her guilty?” 

Seteth’s eye twitched. “ _ Lady _ Rhea may find it suitable to suspend Byleth from teaching at the academy. A professor without restraint has no business teaching youths. She may be more suited for mercenary work after all, or perhaps a place among the knights with her father.”

Distress bubbled up from the Black Eagles as they glanced worriedly at one another. Edelgard quelled them with her voice. “You know you can’t do that. You have no replacement.” 

“We will do what we must,” Seteth said. 

“There has to be something lesser!” Flayn said. “Please, Seteth, after all she’s done for us, for me…” 

Edelgard may have loathed Flayn, but in this moment she respected her. Seeing her argue on behalf of the professor, against her brother, proved there may be a shred of independence in the girl after all. She waited with curiosity for Seteth’s reaction. 

“Flayn…” Seteth rubbed his temples. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” 

“Please?” Flayn begged. “You know as well as I do this whole class would vouch for the professor.” 

Seteth’s shut his eyes, considering. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he stared at the students once more. “There is a chance I can argue for a lesser punishment.” Flayn gasped excitedly, but Seteth raised his hand for her silence. “However, it’ll still impact the Black Eagles.”

“What are you suggesting?” Edelgard asked. 

“Your professor will still be suspended from teaching, but only temporarily. That is, she would be banned from participating in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.”

Edelgard frowned, considering. She turned and faced the Black Eagles, gauging their reactions. Only mild satisfaction colored their features, but they all collectively knew this was the best they would get out of Seteth. Edelgard was thankful she got anything at all. With a silent nod, she understood. 

“Very well,” Edelgard murmured. “As long as no one is against this notion, we agree.” 

There was not a single word of protest. Edelgard faced Seteth, hating him and the Church and Rhea and all the cowards of the Knights of Seiros. “We ask that you fight for those terms on our behalf,” Edelgard said. “We are thankful for your consideration.” 

Seteth looked as unenthused as Edelgard felt. He nodded stiffly. “I’ll be going to the Audience Chamber, then.” She noted a grudging tone in his voice. “As I’m sure you all have surmised, you’re dismissed from class for the day. And I’ll remind you to take heed of the academy’s curriculum. The Commandments of Chivalry are what we uphold in Garreg Mach. It is to  _ that _ standard which you will be held.” 

Slowly, he walked to the door, where the cold wind howled for him beyond. “Failure to obey the commandments is not an option.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me longer than intended to write, mostly because it leads to my least favorite chapter/battle in White Clouds. As you've noticed, there will be a slight deviation from canon in the following chapter, however the rest of the fic is very much linear with what happened in-game. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Byleth's lecture of the Way of the Warrior is inspired by Japanese _bushidō_. The Commandments of Chivalry is inspired by Léon Gautier's, _Chivalry_ , written in 1891. Yes, Léon Gautier is a real dude. Cool, huh?
> 
> Thanks again for your continued support. To celebrate the New Year, the next chapter will have a surprise in store. ;)


	28. Blood Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following her confrontation with the Knights of Seiros, Byleth is forced to remain on the sidelines while the Black Eagles participate in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a special treat to commemorate the New Year as well as my return from deployment, this chapter features Byleth's perspective. It will be the only chapter featuring her POV, the rest of Elysium will continue with Edelgard's perspective. 
> 
> Several of you have asked/requested Byleth's perspective, and as the writer I'm letting you know you've been heard! I hope you enjoy this tiny piece of what's going through Byleth's head and know that I appreciate each and every one of you for continuing to support me and Elysium. 
> 
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

It was hard to walk anywhere, for Byleth always had the feeling she had been anywhere before. 

Frost dusted the surrounding evergreens, glittering like pale starlight, but Byleth could not marvel at it; she knew the sun would come and melt it away. Above, hundreds of wyvern clouded the gray sky; their membranous wings eclipsed the sun, but she could not unearth awe within her. She knew the wyvern would come and go, ebb and flow, like the tide in their annual migration. She would see them again. She had seen them before. Even the sun in all its pastel glory did not stir her; she gazed at its golden rays, watching them bathe the icy earth until it glowed a silvery glow, feeling nothing for its beauty. 

Sunlight glared into the iron armor of the Knights of Seiros; the metallic clangor of their armor assaulted her ears as they went about their day. The sounds of laughter and conversation around her was familiar, for she’d heard it all before. What did you eat last night? How’s the wife doing? Did you hear what happened to so-and-so? Incessant buzzing, those voices, humming in Byleth’s ears no matter how much she tried to tune it out. She watched the comings and goings of knights around her. They all fought hard to stand out and look the best among their peers; they never stopped to wonder… why? What was it all for? What was the purpose? 

It was always the same. 

The sun rose. The sun set. 

The frost came. The frost melted. 

People lived. People died.

Byleth was a spoke stuck in a wheel that constantly turned whether she wanted it to or not. She rolled over rough roads, marbled paths, cobblestones, but no matter what, she kept rolling. Even a pothole could not stop her. She wanted to reach for the breaks, she wanted it all to screech to a halt; she wanted to steer down a different direction, but she couldn’t find the reins. She couldn’t reach for anything. After all, she was just a spoke in a wheel, rolling through a life that did not feel like her own. An outsider looking in, watching her life turn round and round ceaselessly, powerless to stop it. She didn't even know where she was rolling to or why. 

The spinning wheel led her to Gronder Field. Byleth looked over the vast rolling hills. It was impossible to decipher which was colder, her eyes or the frost that twinkled in the field. How could she be taken by a sight she felt she had seen before? It was as if all the wonders in life had been lived by someone else, and she was revisiting their memories. The fire in her soul burned out long before she was born; she was left with the ashes. 

“Professor! You’ll be watching from the archbishop’s tent.” A comely young squire with curly copper hair peeking from his half helm approached Byleth. 

She turned to him, gazing down. He flinched beneath her eyes. The younger ones always did. What they saw in her, she did not know. However, she did know what she saw in him: a scared young boy hiding behind some recycled armor. She wondered, did he don the armor to hide his fear, or did he fear the armor he donned? 

Byleth’s silence prompted the squire to politely offer, “I can show you the way, if it please you.” 

“Just point me in the right direction,” Byleth said.

At her command, he gestured to the far end of the field where a castle of a pavilion erected between swathes of pine trees, looking down on Gronder from a hill. If it was any larger, it would look more like Garreg Mach’s cathedral. 

Wordlessly, Byleth left the squire. Or, she tried to, but the young man placed himself once more before her. “Please, Professor, allow me to escort you,” he offered, voice more strained than before. 

_ So that’s what this is, _ Byleth realized. “Are you meant to escort me, or babysit me?” she asked coolly. 

“Well you see, I…” The squire fumbled over his words, face flushing beet red. “I only mean to ensure you do not approach the students. You--I am ordered to take you directly to the tent.” 

Byleth was unimpressed, but did not show it. Instead, she just stared into the squire, practically smelling the fear dripping off his sweaty brow. Tasking a squire to watch over her was laughably ludicrous, or at least it would be if Byleth had a stronger sense of humor. The only sense she had was for her students, and now this squire was in the way of that. 

“I understand you’re only following orders, but I am inclined to see off my students before the battle regardless of what you or the Knights of Seiros feel,” Byleth said. 

If the boy’s face got any redder, Byleth would think he forgot how to breathe. “I beg your cooperation, Professor.” He reached for her arm, causing her to freeze. “If you’ll just come with me…” 

Before his trembling, sweaty hands could touch her, she snatched his wrist, twisting it and raising it up and over his head. “Don’t touch me,” she said, voice cool and collected, even as the boy squealed like a pig. “I won’t be going anywhere with you.” 

“Hey, kid.” 

Looking up, Byleth found Jeralt’s brown eyes glaring down at her. He stared at her the way he usually did, with concern. What he saw, she never knew, but Byleth never felt like there was anything to be concerned about. 

“What?” she asked, returning his gaze, but not his concern. She finally released the squealing squire, leaving him to grip his wrist in defeat.

“You forget your strength,” Jeralt observed, staring down at the squire as he held his wrist.

Byleth failed to reflect her father’s sympathy as she glared down at the squire. “Sorry,” she murmured to no one in particular. 

The squire straightened himself, face paling to a squishy pink as he sniffled. “Sir Jeralt,” he greeted with a limp salute. 

“I’ll take it from here, Elton,” Jeralt said to the squire. “Go assist in erecting the viewers' tents. We are expecting many esteemed guests for this hastilude. We need to be ready.” 

As Elton scurried off, Byleth glared after him. Her behavior had yet to be forgiven, it seemed. She was beginning to believe the knights would never forget what she did to their brothers-in-arms. Byleth’s knuckles burned dully with the memory of crushing their faces. 

“Don’t let those knights get to you. You did the right thing,” Jeralt muttered gruffly.

It was only when he said something that Byleth realized she was getting baleful glances from the knights that received Elton at the collage of tents. When she met their spiteful stares, they turned around, murmuring to one another. She knew what they murmured about. Everyone murmured about it. Beating the soldiers bloody after they bashed in Caspar’s face seemed like less than a fair trade; she wished she gave them something more to gossip about. Whether it was right or wrong never occurred to Byleth; she was a slave to the moment, and in the moment, she saw a young man crumpled over, beaten by the soldiers that were supposed to protect him. Now, with a clearer head, she believed she was right and damned those that thought otherwise. 

“I could have done more,” Byleth said. 

Jeralt laughed, though Byleth did not understand what was funny. She was only voicing her thoughts. “I’m sure you could have. But… Maybe it’d be best to go easier on them next time?”

“Why would I do that?” 

“You… Nevermind.” Jeralt chuckled still, patting her back. “You really would kill for those brats, huh?” 

“I’ve killed for less,” Byleth said. It was another truth, but this time it made Jeralt’s face contort strangely, as if he was in pain. 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, but you’re not in the killing business anymore. You’re in the teaching business,” Jeralt pointed out, becoming gruff again. 

“I still have to kill as a teacher, and I am teaching them how to kill.” Byleth felt like she was stuck in the weeds as she navigated through this conversation. What was Jeralt getting at? “The teaching business is really no different.”

“Now you have people to protect,” Jeralt pointed out. “People that look up to you. It  _ is  _ different. They look to you as an example of who to become.”

Byleth considered this. She did not like the thought of being an example of who to become, not when she had no idea who, or what, she was becoming herself. “So, you want me to change?” 

“Not change, no, but maybe put more thought into your actions.” Jeralt smiled at her, but his eyes glistened. “You can’t think like a mercenary anymore. You’ve already come a long way since you’ve first started, but--”

“I understand.” She’s heard this song before; she could recite the lyrics in her head. “There is strength in mercy.”

“Yes, there is strength in mercy.” Jeralt watched the students assemble on the field. Byleth watched with him. “You know, I’ve never told you this, but… It was your mother that said those words to me.” 

“My mother?” 

“Yes. I was a lot like you when I was your age. Actions speak louder than words, after all, and, well, I’ve never been much of a speaker.” 

Byleth listened, but only partly. She was more interested in watching the students rendezvous on the field. Three distinct masses formed, each swathed in either gold, blue, or red. Byleth’s eyes focused more intently on the red. What she knew of her mother now changed nothing. She was dead. Just a stranger with a name. There was a time when she would have given anything to feed her curiosity of her mother, but those questions were met with nothing but silence from Jeralt. After starving for information for so long, Byleth all but renounced her wonder of the woman that was her mother. 

“Forgetting to be merciful is easy, but once it is truly lost, we can’t get it back,” Jeralt continued. “Your mother knew you would be a fighter, she could feel it, but she also knew you would grow to become someone good.” 

“We never know what we will grow to be until we’re already grown and being it.” Byleth was done talking about her mother. She started to walk towards the archbishop’s tent. 

Jeralt followed behind her. He always knew when Byleth was done talking, and he was gracious enough to allow the silence to take hold. 

“Are you my new escort?” Byleth asked.

“No. My presence is also required in the archbishop’s tent.” He sounded about as thrilled as Byleth felt, which was to say not thrilled at all. 

A flood of people started for Gronder Field while the students assembled. They came from elaborately decorated horse-pulled carriages gilded with sigils of noble houses from across the continent. Byleth recognized none of the strange symbols and animals that represented the onslaught of aristocrats. She watched as they populated the surrounding tents, overwhelmed by their grandeur. They dressed like peacocks, she thought. Colorful and embroidered with unnecessary trinkets that flashed in the sun like lures. They smelled of powder and perfume; even from afar, they suffocated her. Even from afar, the sight of them made her stomach churn. These were alien people, or maybe, she was the alien? She felt like one, for as soon as she met their eyes, they made a point to avoid her. They always did. 

Again, Byleth was left wondering what they saw in her. It had to be something frightening, for they made way for her subconsciously. It was as if she was an ambiguous breed of beast; no one wanted to get too close. Instead, they would gawk from afar and try to discern what kind of animal she was. They feared the unknown, as everyone did, and Byleth could not blame them. Even she had no name for what dwelled within her. She just knew whatever it was made her different, and when one was different, one was alone. It was always that way, and would always be. 

The pavilion gaped before them, yawning over Byleth as she entered. First, she was greeted with an ornate tapestry that clung to the cotton walls of the tent. It displayed a Tree of Shields, which held the three sigils of the Holy Kingdom, Adrestian Empire, and Leicester Alliance respectively. Byleth marveled at the threadwork for only a moment, for the rest of the tent was just as ornately decorated. Chests and loveseats littered the carpeted floor, offering seating and promising luxury. Thick fur pelts and woolen blankets hugged the furniture so none of the patrons under canvas would go cold. Flagons of red wine adorned almost every flat surface, ready to be attended to by the numerous cupbearers lying in wait. Candlesticks illuminated the tent, bringing to light the archbishop’s most esteemed knights and professors. 

Sir Gilbert, Sir Catherine, Sir Shamir, and Sir Alois all congregated at the heart of the tent talking amongst one another. Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela were among them, sitting side-by-side. Collectively, their faces suffused with a blush as they each partook in drinking wine. Byleth hesitated, prompted forward only by a pat on the back by Jeralt. 

“With a crowd like this, I doubt there’ll be enough wine to go around,” Jeralt said, announcing himself and Byleth. 

All eyes were on them, and Byleth was petrified beneath their gazes. Is this what it felt like to jump into a snake pit? She steeled her nerves as a reflex, fixing each face with a glare. There was no friendliness bred between them, only thin smiles and thinner patience.

The friendliest face among them was, and always would be, Sir Alois. Jeralt’s corpulent friend stood up, a tad too fast, and rocked back on his heels as he belched a greeting, already sounding sloshed. “Jeralt, my friend! Good of you to join us. And Byleth, always a pleasure, always.” 

“We had no choice,” Byleth said flatly. Choices were in short supply for those employed by the Church of Seiros. 

The sound of her voice must’ve grated Sir Catherine’s eardrums because she shook her head like a fly was buzzing around it. She reclined in her seat, recovering, and draped her arm around Sir Shamir while tossing a lopsided grin in Byleth’s direction. “Well, your right to choice got taken the minute you decided to bash my soldiers’ faces in,” Sir Catherine said. “So, pull up a chair and get comfortable. You’ve got nowhere else to be.”

Byleth opened her mouth to retort, but Jeralt stepped in, saying, “Corporal punishment has long been in short supply, and it shows in how our ranks are behaving.” 

“Then perhaps your Byleth should levy for the Knights of Seiros, since she is so keen on disciplining our soldiers in our stead,” Sir Gilbert suggested, sipping his wine thoughtfully.

“Oh, enough of this!” Manuela protested, tossing her hands up in exasperation. “If you all get any more stuffy I won’t be able to breathe in this tent. You’re all knights for crying out loud. My students are more mature than you.” 

Hanneman lit his pipe, puffing and nodding simultaneously. “For once, she has a point.”

“Come, darling, come sit.” Manuela smiled at Byleth, patting a chest beside her seat. “You’re a guest just like anyone else. And I’m starved for some pleasurable company.”

Byleth obliged, but her eyes never left Sir Catherine. Deadlocked with the other knight, Byleth had the overwhelming urge to return to the battlefield and her students. Fighting was so much simpler. A swing of the sword, and it would be over. The nuances of conversation and body language were lost on her. Byleth would have an easier time slaying a beast. 

“Fine. Water under the bridge.” Sir Catherine shrugged, but something about the gleam in her blue eyes warned Byleth that all was not forgiven. “I suppose having to sit out this tournament is punishment enough. I’m sure your absence will be felt by your students.” 

“They’ll be fine without me,” Byleth said. Sir Catherine was just as quick to poke holes with her sword as she was with her words. The mistrust between them was just as monstrous as the pavilion that held them captive. 

“Your students seem to like you,” Sir Shamir said. Sir Catherine’s arm wrapped tighter around her as she spoke. “I’m sure they’ll want to show off for you.” 

“Like? Ugh, they  _ adore _ their professor!” Manuela gushed, shoving Byleth’s shoulder playfully. “I can only ever dream to be as popular.” 

“Perhaps if you spent more time in the classroom and less time at the tavern,” Hanneman suggested. 

“Shut it, you. Suck on that pipe some more.” Manuela’s face pinched up at him. 

Sir Catherine tilted her head back, laughing. “Let Manny have her fun. She’s got to get it in before she wrinkles up in retirement.” 

“I’ll have you know I age like fine wine, baby,” Manuela scoffed, taking a hearty pull of wine that was just as finely aged. “And these soldiers of yours can’t help but lap me up.” 

Sir Gilbert sucked his teeth in disgust, jowls trembling. 

Byleth felt discomfort grow in her chest like a thorn bush. Something about being surrounded by these people pulled her nerves taut. She looked to Jeralt for comfort, but found him already half a bottle deep with Sir Alois. She never knew how he could drink as fast and last as long as he did. Whenever she asked, he gave the same answer: talent. It was a talent she lacked, but that did not stop her from accepting the glass of wine Manuela offered. 

“Here you go, sweetheart,” Manuela purred. “Don’t let these brutes hog it all for themselves.” 

The wine couldn’t splash down her throat fast enough, especially as she felt Sir Gilbert’s glare once more and heard the grate in Sir Catherine’s tone as she murmured to Sir Shamir. Yes, having a sword in hand was much preferred over this. Her feelings were much clearer when she felt them through the tip of her sword. Pain and triumph, regret and anger, sadness and comradery, they all came into perspective when she was on the field. They had names. The minute she sheathed her sword, she was blinded and could not name a damn thing she felt. The warmth she felt in the heat of battle was scotched as soon as the last man fell. Only coldness remained, and it was colder than death. For as long as she could remember, it was her and her sword. 

The wine warmed her veins, but it was tepid compared to the heat she longed for. Nostalgia liked to nestle within her once the alcohol took hold. She was a kid again, swinging her sword as some helpless sapling in her desperation to learn all that Jeralt taught her. She would knock the tree around until the last leaf fell, by then Jeralt would return from his campaign. Eventually, the leaves would become lives. Before she knew it, she was grown and a mercenary; she didn’t even know why she swung her sword anymore, she just knew that it was all she had, and no one could take that from her. 

“Honey, are you still here?” Manuela asked. 

People were easier to understand when they warred with one another. They only had one drive: to survive. Most of them didn’t, but Byleth did. And they abhorred her for it. She didn’t understand why. She feared she would never understand. Maybe they feared her because she didn’t do anything  _ but _ survive. What was living, when there was nothing to live for? How could she be afraid of death when living was so much more terrifying? AShe survived, but she was not alive. shen Demon, that was her moniker. Demons didn’t live for anything, they just existed in the darkest recesses of the mind, and the thought of that was horrifying to many. It was so horrifying they erected an entire Church to stand against them. But no matter how much they prayed, demons like Byleth existed,

Demons that feared life more than death. 

“Maybe the wine’s too strong,” Hanneman muttered while Sir Catherine chuckled in the background. 

“No. It’s fine.” Byleth gulped down some more. It wasn’t enough to smother her crackling erves, but it at least slowed the fraying. 

“Look! The tournament’s about to start!” Sir Alois exclaimed, practically falling out of his chair. 

Byleth sat upright, seeing her students gather below. They seemed so far away. She stood, wanting to walk to the edge of the pavilion to get closer, though it would never be close enough. 

Trumpets sounded from outside the pavilion. Standing at the crest of the hill not too far from where Byleth sat, Lady Rhea watched over the gathered forces. 

“My children!” she began. Her voice, clear and concise, carried over the field in an echo. “Today, we remember the day our brothers and sisters warred with one another and honor their sacrifice. We’ve long enjoyed peacetime, and we will continue to enjoy peace as long as we keep the goddess in our hearts and allow Her to guide us.

Let this hastilude stand for the trials we’ve overcome, and the peace we’ve fought for!” 

Cheers roared from the surrounding tents. On the field, the three Houses assembled their armies and launched their attack. 

They were all flames ignited by their hopes and dreams. They flickered across the field, colliding with one another and growing brighter all the same. This mock battle, void of blood and hardship, was only kindling their light; it was a test of their growth, their ability. They all fought to see who could burn brighter than the rest. Even watching them, Byleth felt their warmth. It stoked her own flame within, though it was only a weak ember that had no meaning.

One flame on the field held a light all its own. 

Byleth found her easily, for all the other fires seemed drawn to her. Edelgard. Just the sight of her made everything glow. She was the most radiant of all, for she never shied away from the strength of her own flame. Instead, she brandished it with every movement she made, every command she spoke. On the battlefield, she razed through not like a wildfire, but like a comet, controlled and lightning-quick, going from one point to the next with purpose, stopping for nothing and no one. Never before had Byleth encountered a fire that knew where it would burn and for how long and who for until she met Edelgard. For Byleth to be put in charge of a woman that already knew herself and what she stood for, well, the irony spoke for itself. Byleth knew none of those things, yet she was meant to teach her.

She even wanted to get close to her. Byleth wanted some of that fire. She wanted to feel the heat again, the warmth, the glow, she wanted all of it. She knew not why. Perhaps because it was closest to the warmth she felt when she held her sword. What she did know was that every time she reached out to her, she got burned or was left in a bout of smoke. It hurt, it was suffocating and blinding, but she wanted to keep trying.

_ You’re staring at her again.  _

There it was. The inner voice, awoken. The someone. Sothis. Upon hearing her, Byleth could practically see her floating in her periphery. A cherub with a mass of emerald hair, catlike green eyes, and a smug, knowing smile. 

_ You can’t keep staring at her, hoping things will change, you know. That’s not how life works. _

_ I can’t do anything _ but  _ stare at her right now. I’m a part of the audience. _

_ Don’t get cheeky with me! You know what I mean. _

Sothis’s voice echoed in Byleth’s mind. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, she was always there. There was comfort in knowing there was always someone to speak to. There was also great discomfort in knowing there was always someone that waged an eternal inner dialogue within Byleth’s mind. 

_ What would you have me do, then?  _ Byleth wondered.

_ I cannot say. The feelings you have are strange even to me, unfathomable, even. I sense beauty in it, but also great danger.  _ The exasperation in Sothis’s voice bled into Byleth.  _ Could you not choose a more pleasant one? Perhaps with less arrogance? Less stubbornness?  _

_ Whatever this is doesn’t feel like a choice. It just happened. _

_ But you can choose to ignore it, which may be for the best. _

_ And you always know what’s best? _

Sothis giggled haughtily.  _ My success rate is worthy of commendation, I’d say. _

_ So, having us almost die in Zanado was for the best? _

_ There you go again, getting cheeky! Everyone makes mistakes, even me.  _ She sighed.  _ As long as you and I are one, your choices are mine as well to bear. I know you will have the sense to make the right choice in the end, so stop acting so nonchalant.  _

_ I thought you would do that for me? _

_ You fool! I do hope you jest! Your choices are yours alone. How long do you plan on ignoring your own volition?  _ Byleth imagined Sothis tugging on her own hair in frustration.  _ Don’t allow my faith in you to go to waste.  _

Is this what was called nagging? It felt like it. Byleth finished her wine with a loud gulp, hoping to drown the echo of Sothis’s voice. Her insistent companion felt further away now, but that did not stop her from speaking. 

_ Whatever comes to pass, please swear to cut a path that is your own.  _ Her voice faded into the wine that warmed Byleth’s blood.

“Professor.” Lady Rhea stood before Byleth, impeding her view of the battling students. “Walk with me.” 

It was not a question. Byleth glanced around at the others, but they all were busy looking at everything but her and the archbishop. Not even Jeralt looked her way. He was more interested in looking for another cupbearer to bring him more wine. How could she be surrounded by so many people and still feel so alone? 

Standing, she wordlessly joined Lady Rhea. Despite Jeralt’s warnings, she seemed like one of the only people that understood her. Sometimes, it felt like Lady Rhea saw something in her that Byleth never knew existed. There was an odd sense of comfort and familiarity in her presence. Byleth often wondered if they’d met before, somewhere far away and out of reach. 

“I know this must be hard for you,” Lady Rhea said, leading Byleth to her side of the tent. It smelled of frankincense. Wisps of silver smoke slithered through the silken sheets that framed her quarters. “I do not wish to torment you this way, but I fear my knights would’ve taken justice into their own hands had I not intervened.” 

“I’m not afraid of them,” Byleth said. 

Lady Rhea laughed softly. “I know, but these matters are sensitive. I hope you don’t harbor a grudge over this.”

“What’s done is done. There’s nothing more to talk about.” 

Lady Rhea perched atop a chair that resembled her throne in the Audience Chamber. Even seated, she was placed above Byleth. The veils of silk that draped down from the pavilion’s ceiling flowed in the cool air, fluttering occasionally to hide Lady Rhea’s face. Her eyes, however, always shone through. Nothing could hide from her eyes, not even Byleth. Lady Rhea was probably one of the only people that did not hide from Byleth’s gaze; if anything, she sought it, and when their eyes met, Byleth thought she could see a piece of herself within those green depths. 

“Then shall we talk about something else?” Lady Rhea offered. 

Byleth could think of nothing more daunting than partaking in smalltalk with the archbishop. She found her eyes looking toward the field again, looking for Edelgard. “Like what?” 

“You.” 

“There isn’t much to say.” 

“Oh, but there is.” Lady Rhea’s voice held a smile. It always did. It was rare for her not to be smiling. Jeralt once said a smile was most deceitful. She wondered if Lady Rhea was an exception to that. “We are not strangers, you and I. When you speak to me, don’t think of me as the archbishop. I’m simply Rhea.”

“Okay. Rhea.” Speaking her name felt strange. 

Byleth winced as Ferdinand sloppily launched his blunted javelin, missing Ingrid by a hair. The cost of his overconfidence was a blow to the knee. As he buckled, Edelgard dove in with her axe to save him from Felix’s wooden sword. Seeing them fight alongside one another was reassuring. Byleth recalled a point in time where the two couldn’t even train together. 

“You’ve taken well to the Sword of the Creator. I’m pleased that it is you wielding it. No one else could be more suited.” Lady Rhea paused, but Byleth did not turn around to see why. She was too distracted by Bernadetta’s astute marksmanship; she was most improved of all her students. To think, Byleth could barely get her to come out of her room before. “I wonder, though,” Lady Rhea continued. “Does wielding it hamper you in any way?” 

“Hamper me?” Byleth echoed. 

Finally, she turned to face Lady Rhea. For a moment, she thought there was a glare in her eyes. Lady Rhea was searching her for something again. Subconsciously, Byleth’s chest tightened. The Sword of the Creator was a fantastically eerie weapon. She’d never seen anything like it before discovering it in the Holy Tomb. Byleth could not quite grasp the material that forged it, but somehow holding it made her feel complete. It was oddly comforting to wield that Relic, until each swing made her insides heave. Something told her not to allow Lady Rhea to know that, however. It was not necessarily mistrust. Perhaps fear? The fear Lady Rhea would take the sword away?

“It doesn’t bother me at all,” Byleth answered, turning back to the field. Fewer soldiers were left standing now. Edelgard was among the final few. She stood before Dimitri. They exchanged words, then blows. 

“Really? No chest pains? Strange dreams or hallucinations?” Lady Rhea pressed. 

“Nothing.” 

“I see.” She almost sounded disappointed. Byleth felt the strange desire to run suddenly overcome her. “It is an ancient and legendary blade, after all. I simply feared it may ail you in some way.” 

“Can’t say it has.” 

Byleth was no longer thinking about the Relic. Instead, she watched Edelgard’s footwork. Her training with the sword had paid off. She was much lighter on her feet, even as she brandished an axe; she succeeded in dodging Dimitri’s lance effortlessly. Byleth stepped closer to the edge of the tent, away from Lady Rhea, in an effort to watch her student. She remembered one of their first training sessions, when Byleth was forced to disarm her in order to get her point across. There was a lot of anger in Edelgard then. To an extent, there still was. She saw it come through every now and then, especially in battle. Anger was one of the easiest emotions for Byleth to understand; it was one of the rawest and most honest. Seeing it in Edelgard stirred something in her, something new. It felt like she stood at the foot of a great tempest and wanted nothing more than to calm it and allow the sun to shine through. An impossible task, but a beautiful idea. 

Beautiful. Byleth’s hands clenched into fists. She really was beautiful. The memory of Edelgard’s body pressed against hers invaded her. The memory of their lips touching strangled her. She could not name what she felt, but it mattered not, for there was nothing to say. It meant nothing to Edelgard, after all. “The heat of the moment” was what she called it. Byleth knew little of anything outside battle, but she knew enough to understand what that meant. 

“Professor?” Lady Rhea prompted.

Edelgard knocked Dimitri to his knees, bringing her axe down to hover above his head. 

“We won,” Byleth whispered.

“Oh? Well, it appears you have,” Lady Rhea realized. “Congratulations, Professor.” 

Byleth did not wait to receive her congratulations from the archbishop properly She was already running. She ran through the tent, startling the knights and professors. It reeked of tobacco and alcohol; each gaze was more glazed over than the last.

“Byleth? What’s wrong?” Jeralt’s voice was only mildly garbled by the alcohol.

“We won,” Byleth repeated as she flew by. 

Hanneman almost choked on his pipe. His usually pale face was as dark as the wine. “Wait, the battle’s over? My word, how much have I drank?”

“Not enough, Hanneman, not enough.” Manuela’s laughter followed Byleth out of the tent. 

“You’re not to approach the students, Professor!” Sir Gilbert shouted after her. 

Byleth ignored him, bursting from the pavilion. The icy air filled her lungs, but her chest felt full of warmth.  _ We won. They did it. _

“Professor!” Sir Gilbert’s voice was louder. He must've decided that he wasn’t too drunk to give chase. Byleth could hear his heavy footsteps fast-approaching. 

“Touch her and I’ll break your hands, old man.” Jeralt’s growl was low and deep within the tent.

“Yeah! Fight! Fight! Fight!” Sir Catherine’s cheering was doused by a scornful curse from Sir Shamir, followed by a loud thudding noise. 

The chaos unfolding within the archbishop’s tent was nothing but a distant memory now. All Byleth could think about was her students as she dashed through the frosty field. She found them dirtied and sweaty on Gronder Field. They were exchanging high-fives and hugs, smiling and laughing with one another. 

“You should’ve seen Felix’s face when I caught him with my lance,” Sylvain crowed. “Oh, he’ll be sore at me for a moon.” 

“I see you’ve added Death to your arsenal of Dark Magic,” Lysithea said to Hubert, smiling at him mischievously. “Perhaps our training has paid off?” 

“Perhaps.” Hubert smirked. “Your expertise in the craft is… admirable.” 

“You should’ve seen Lorenz’s face when I knocked him off that horse!” Caspar boasted. “Priceless!” 

“You were delightfully brutish as always.” Lindhardt sighed. 

“Professor!” Bernadetta squeaked. 

“We got the victory!” Petra said, still hugging Dorothea. 

Byleth stood before her students, seeing all their eyes fall on her. Their expressions brightened instantly in their dirt-smudged faces. The warmth in her chest grew, but it didn’t glow until Edelgard appeared. Her white hair framed her face in wild wisps, reminding Byleth of the fair silk that still flowed in the archbishop’s tent. In her lilac eyes, she saw nothing but brightness.

To her surprise, Edelgard launched forward. Before Byleth knew what was happening, Edelgard’s arms were wrapped around her. Byleth caught her immediately; the weight of her caused them to spin in a circle. Holding her tight around the waist, Byleth could smell the faintest aroma of roses. But what she felt within for her was far softer than any petal. However, it would not be long before she felt the thorns. Byleth released Edelgard before she got pricked. This was just another moment, after all. Byleth didn’t want to be taken by the heat of it. Edelgard had a strange expression when Byleth set her down. Did she want the moment to last too? Or did she wish it never happened? 

“You all did well,” Byleth said, ignoring the discomfort settling in her throat. The sweet smell of roses lingered. “Your training has paid off.” 

“Well, we owe our thanks to you. It is because of your teaching that we’ve made it this far.” Edelgard’s smile became cordial once more, less natural. Byleth missed the smile she had before when she leapt into her arms. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” Byleth said, feeling a frown form. To be owed meant to be repaid, and Byleth wanted nothing from her students. She merely wanted to enjoy their light for a little longer. This was the closest thing to a purpose she had. “You owe it to yourselves to realize how far you’ve come.” 

“We can go much further with you by our side,” Edelgard said. 

“Then I shall remain by your side for as long as time allows.” 

If being a mercenary taught Byleth anything besides how to kill, it taught her about the finite nature of life. Eventually, everyone left. Whether they struck out on their own, ran away, or died, eventually they would be gone. Her students were no exception. They’d graduate and embark on their destinies and fulfill their dreams, while Byleth remained at the monastery with Jeralt. She had no dream to fulfill nor any destiny to speak of. All she had was a shadow of a purpose as a professor at the Officers Academy. A part of her wanted this never to end, but she knew that was foolish of her to wish for. 

The end would always come. 

  
  
  
  


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	29. A Feast for Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles enjoy a feast following the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Edelgard receives news from the capital.

“You know how to win, but you do not know how to use victory.” 

Byleth stood before the Black Eagles in the front of the classroom, arms crossed. She was concise as she spoke, glossing over each word with haste. “I am impressed by your success in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, but I caution you.” 

Edelgard was beside Byleth, looking over the rest of the students. They assembled upon Byleth’s order just before sunset. Now, the crescent moon was high and the stars shone bright. Light as blue as Byleth’s eyes pierced the icy windows, casting pale light on the faces of the Black Eagles. Fatigue from the journey back to Garreg Mach from Gronder Field was obvious on their faces; dark circles lined their droopy eyes and their shoulders were hunched over from an invisible weight. Yet, they followed their professor’s command and assembled, missing out on the beginning of the Feast for Kings. 

“The other students you fought against will be future leaders. Be they allies or enemies, you must take into consideration that the more they learn of you, the more dangerous they become.” Byleth’s voice cut through the students. “War is a stranger to no one.”

Byleth lent a voice to Edelgard’s thoughts. Seeing Dimitri and Claude wreak havoc on Gronder Field served as a painful reminder of what was to come, as if she needed more of those. Had Byleth not taught her the importance of footwork, Dimitri would’ve bested her; he fought with a violence she had not known in him before. The memory of his lance-head grazing against her cheek still stung; had it been steel rather than wood, she would be scarred. As for Claude, he kept to the perimeter, always launching his arrows from the shadows when they were least expected. An opportunist to a fault, Claude never went for any of the students head-on; he was keen on lying in wait, and he was damn good at it. Had Edelgard not sent Hubert after him, Claude would’ve eventually planted an arrow in her bosom. There were too many close calls. Edelgard found her eyes wandering to Byleth; had she been there, those close calls would never have gotten close at all. She knew this. Byleth knew this. That’s why this meeting was being held. 

“We are fast-approaching the twilight of your education, but you must never stop learning,” Byleth continued. “There will be many teachers in your lives beyond me, and you will realize that you are teachers yourselves. I’ve learned a lot from all of you, and I will continue to do so until you graduate and leave Garreg Mach.” 

_ Leave Garreg Mach. _ The words nestled uncomfortably in Edelgard’s heart, turning her blood bittersweet as it filled her. In hindsight, she should’ve known she would bond with her classmates; she should’ve known it would be hard to let them go. Yet, as she gazed at the rest of the Black Eagles, she felt intertwined with them. The rope binding them as one unit only grew thicker the longer they remained with one another. It was strong enough to strangle her, should she let it. Cutting the twine that bound them would be painful and laborious, but necessary.  _ Then why don’t I want it to end? _

As long as Edelgard had Byleth, she was able to experience the Officers Academy as it was meant to be. Around Byleth, she was just a student; she was someone her classmates could fight alongside, not bow to. She was less than a princess and more for it all the same. It made her… happy. She smiled sadly to herself. She was allowed to be happy, she decided, for now. 

“I won’t keep you from the Feast for Kings any longer,” Byleth said, gesturing to the door. “Enjoy yourselves. You’ve earned it.” 

“I can’t wait!” Caspar crowed. “I’m so hungry I could eat a whole wyvern!” 

“With skin so tough, wyvern are not good for eating,” Petra said, frowning in confusion. 

Chuckling, Caspar patted her shoulder. “It’s just an expression. It means I could eat a lot!” 

“I could also be eating much!” Petra agreed. 

Edelgard watched as the pair left the classroom, relieved to see they were getting along again. She wondered how Caspar learned to apologize and earned Petra’s forgiveness. She had a sneaking suspicion Dorothea put him up to it, for she followed closely behind the two with a knowing smile. Lindhardt trailed after them with Bernadetta at his tail. 

“Oh, I hope the Dining Hall isn’t too crowded. Large crowds make me lose my appetite,” Bernadetta fretted. 

“How can you lose your appetite when there’s cakes galore?!” Lysethia asked excitedly. 

Bernadetta’s eyes widened. “Well, when you put it that way…” 

As the rest of the students filtered out into the cold night, Edelgard felt Byleth’s eyes on her. Her teacher’s arms were still crossed, and her eyes tore into her with a silent intensity. “Where are they?” 

Edelgard hesitated, blinking in confusion. “Excuse me?” 

“Hubert and Monica,” Byleth said. “I requested that all the students be here for this meeting. They were the only two absent. I trust you notified them of this, so I assume their absence was by their own volition?”

Byleth’s keen eye missed nothing as usual. Edelgard prepared for this. What she didn’t prepare for was the way it would feel to be alone with Byleth. They hadn’t been alone since their night at the caldarium after the fight against the wolves at Zanado. That night felt like a lifetime ago until she looked into Byleth’s eyes. It didn’t take long for her to dive into the blue depths all over again. The struggle was still there; she waded through the internal war in her heart like a sailboat in a tempest. What once felt like a lifetime ago now only felt like yesterday. She swallowed harshly, tearing her eyes away from Byleth’s. She couldn’t help but wonder, did Byleth feel this too?

“Hubert had prior arrangements that clashed with the meeting time,” Edelgard said. “Business within the capital. I apologize for not informing you sooner.” It wasn’t a complete lie; to what end his business entailed, however, Byleth needn’t know. 

As for Monica, Edelgard was at a loss, and it irritated her to no end. The snake slithered with more frequency lately. She slipped in and out of Edelgard’s periphery, conjuring who knows what in that name of her slithering counterparts. In any other situation, her absence would be welcomed; now, Edelgard only felt dread growing within. Losing a snake in the grass meant one was bound to be bitten. Fear pricked Edelgard, fear for herself, and more importantly, Byleth.  _ I’m losing control. My coalition with Those Who Slither in the Dark is fading the longer I stall. If I don’t give them something worthwhile to sink their fangs into, they’ll find a morsel on their own.  _

“And Monica?” Byleth pressed, squeezing Edelgard’s resolve. 

“Monica is…” Edelgard paused, knowing “nowhere to be found” was not an acceptable answer for anyone. “She’s studying,” Edelgard lied, hating that she had to cover for a snake that was supposed to be in  _ her _ charge. “Remedial lessons in the library, of course. Surely you’d understand, my teacher. She’s rather stressed about upcoming exams.” 

Silence, then, a smile that Edelgard suspected was as close to amused as Byleth could muster. “If only the rest of the students shared her arduous study regimen; I’d never have to lecture again.” 

It took everything in Edelgard not to breathe a loud sigh of relief. “We appreciate your lectures nonetheless, my teacher.” 

“Shall I walk you to the Dining Hall?” Byleth offered. 

Edelgard’s heart went aflutter and she smiled; swept up by relief, she allowed herself to feel elated. “I’d like that.” 

Together, they left the classroom. A  _ whoosh _ of frigid air greeted them as the door opened, followed by the savoury smell of the feast. Lanterns carved out of turnips lined the walkways, supplementing the perched torches in lighting the cobblestones with an orange glow. The Feast for Kings was in full swing now; children from Garreg Mach Proper laughed and ran through the walkways of the monastery, dressed in gaudy, mismatched fabrics sewn together by eccentric seamstresses. Anyone could wear anything, as long as it was flashy and colorful, for tonight, everyone was a king. Edelgard couldn’t help but smile as she observed the common take on a sovereign’s attire. One child wore a cloak stained in a watchet color, wearing a heavy necklace of stones that dangled to his belly. An elderly, liver-spotted man waddled about with a hobby horse, tressed in a cloth that was a sickly green color. The mast horse’s head lolled between his thighs, and Edelgard started when she realized it was a real horse’s skull; it looked back at her with shiny stones for eyes. 

“I never understood this holiday,” Byleth murmured as they walked toward the Dining Hall. 

“It’s the one night a year that everyone can feast like royalty,” Edelgard said, feeling a pang of guilt. Most of her childhood remained steeped in a cloudy pool, lost to her, but she knew what hunger felt like. It ate at her like a rat ate at a corpse while she remained locked in the dungeons beneath the palace. The commoners didn’t know that though; when they saw her, they saw the Imperial princess, and princesses were strangers to hunger. In their eyes, a woman of her stature could never sympathize with them in that sense; if only they knew she was an exception to the rule. 

“It seems like a waste to gorge yourself on one night when winter is coming,” Byleth went on, unsatisfied. 

“The Great Harvest was bountiful this year, bountiful enough for the continent to celebrate the Feast for Kings,” Edelgard pointed out, silently grateful the Empire also basked in plenty tonight. “One must take the time to enjoy the spoils of their labor now and again. It keeps the worker happy.” 

Byleth watched a couple kids run by wearing crowns made of dried ivy. She was as curious as ever, observing everything and everyone. “Are they not mocking you?” 

“Mocking?” Edelgard considered this. The Feast for Kings was a commoner’s holiday, and she could see why it was infamous among the nobility. Common folk walking around dressed in exaggerated “royal” attire did seem a bit tongue-in-cheek, but seeing how happy everyone was washed away any worry in her. _ Let the nobles feel some wounded pride, most of them need it. _ “To some it may seem that way, but traditions such as these are harmless to me.” 

The aroma from the Dining Hall grew stronger, more alluring. Scents of sage, rosemary, and garlic wafted from the windows. Edelgard peered in, seeing butternut squash all golden and glazed over. Whole chickens stuffed and adorned with fennel, parsnips, and scallions dominated many plates. Stews steamed from deep bowls, filled with chunks of meat and potato and simmered with vegetables. Anything not stewed or casseroled was buttered golden brown. Edelgard’s mouth watered before she even entered the hall. 

They were greeted by a congregation of hungry holiday-goers upon entering the threshold of the feast. Priests and students and knights and townsfolk crowded the tables to stuff themselves. The warm lighting of the hall paralleled the warmth in their faces as they indulged bite after bite in an endless binge. Top-heavy goblets of mead were passed down and around the tables; mantles of foam dripped from the lips of the goblets to shower the floor with sticky, liquid gold that smelled of fermented honey. There were kings at every table, sporting crowns made of thorns or vines or corn husks, and they all laughed and jeered like royalty without a care in the world. 

“I believe you’re supposed to sit over there,” Byleth said, gesturing to a table at the head of the Dining Hall. 

Edelgard’s spirits sank. The table was already occupied by Claude and Dimitri, and they both looked at her expectantly, each wearing crowns of their own. Dimitri’s crown of thorns bloomed with white roses. Claude’s crown of thorns were embedded with yellow roses. A third crown of thorns decorated with red roses waited expectantly at the table for her. Suddenly, Edelgard managed to staunch her appetite. She was about to turn around an excuse herself when she felt a surprisingly gentle hand at the small of her back. She looked up to see Byleth staring down at her quizzically. 

“Having second thoughts? You seemed to be enjoying the holiday thus far,” Byleth said. 

Byleth’s hand still lingered against Edelgard, encouraging her forward, and she found herself enjoying it more than she needed to. The last time she felt Byleth touching her back, they were kissing beside a bonfire after a brush with death. The Dining Hall felt hotter than before. 

“I… It’s just that none of the food is appealing to me,” Edelgard lied.

“The food, or the company?” Byleth asked, still guiding her forward with her hand. 

Edelgard smiled ruefully. “I usually dine alone.” 

“Not tonight,” Byleth said. They moved closer to the head table, where Claude and Dimitri waited with full plates of food. “I can stay with you,” Byleth offered quietly as they approached. 

“That won’t be necessary, thank you,” Edelgard replied. She could only use Byleth as a crutch for so long. She needed to wean herself of the pleasure of her company. 

“Very well,” Byleth murmured, sounding close enough to disappointed to make Edelgard feel guilty. 

Edelgard slid into the seat beside Claude. Candlelight waved at her from the center of the table, where a thatched cornucopia spilled with the fruit of the harvest, flushing the table with colorful squashes and root vegetables. The empty space before her was quickly filled by a plate that held creamed peas and potatoes and a bloody, sauced slab of meat. As Claude placed the crown on her head, she started to feel nauseous. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” Byleth moved to excuse herself, causing Claude to spring from his seat and reach out to her. 

“Teach! Where are you going? Come sit over here at the big kids table!” Claude invited her excitedly. “You know you wanna.” 

Annoyance pricked Edelgard. “I hardly think we’re kids anymore, Claude.” 

“Oh, because ‘future rulers of Fodlan’ sounds so much more endearing, doesn’t it?” Claude scoffed. “Relax, Princess.” 

“Enough you two,” Dimitri chided. He gestured to the empty seat beside him and smiled his princely smile at Byleth. “Professor, if it pleases you.” 

Byleth wordlessly sat beside him, across from Edelgard. She stared at their plates and goblets with childlike wonder. “The food looks good,” she said at last. 

Claude shrugged, saying, “It’s decent, but they need to incorporate more eastern cuisine. In my country we have this dish called  _ kumpir _ . It’s fantastic! It’s a crispy potato stuffed with any filling of your choice. Those pompous nobles in the Alliance brush it off as street food, but… I have better taste than them.” Claude leaned across the table at Byleth, a playful gleam in his green eyes. “If you ever get bored at Garreg Mach, you should come visit me in my homeland. I’ll take you to the marketplace in Derdriu and treat you to it.” 

Edelgard watched Claude like a snake would a hawk. He liked to fly high among the clouds and believe he was above the conniving of strategy, but she could taste his ulterior motive in the air. Byleth was an astute tactician, far too astute to have her talents remain fastened to teaching. She would prove a deadly war planner for any ruler and a valuable member on any war council. Claude knew this. Dimitri knew this. She knew this. They all recognized Byleth for who she was from the beginning: a boon. Why else would they all have vied for her as a teacher? 

“Why would I leave Garreg Mach?” Byleth asked. 

Edelgard hid her smile as she pushed her peas across the plate. Even Claude’s infamous charm was lost on the impenetrable woman. “Do you intend on teaching forever?” she asked Byleth.

“It’s a suitable profession for you,” Dimitri added graciously. “I’m certain Lady Rhea would employ you for as long as you wish it.” 

A passing waiter placed a plate before Byleth. The steam wafted off the food and swirled around her face. Her eyes got bigger, filling with what could only be excitement. Next came the mead. The waiter set it beside the plate, making it slosh luxuriously. 

“I don’t know what I intend to do,” Byleth murmured from the brim of her goblet. She sipped the mead, eyes half shut. “I don’t even know how I ended up here in the first place.”

Claude chuckled. “None of us _ really  _ know why we’re here.” 

“Your talent brought you here, Professor,” Dimitri said, ignoring Claude. 

“He’s right,” Edelgard agreed, smiling at Byleth. She had a sneaking suspicion that Dimitri and Claude still coveted Byleth. If only they knew praise and flattery was lost on her. Regardless, Edelgard decided to play along in bartering for her favor. “There’s no parallel to your swordsmanship.”

“Talent and a perverted twist of fate,” Claude added. “The three of us would’ve been history had you not been there to cover our asses that day.”

The mead turned to ash in Edelgard’s mouth as she remembered her failure that nearly got them killed. Kostas, a once-great king of thieves, was now nothing but rotten bones in the Red Canyon; yet his actions continued to impact the present. Had he not the taste for blood, he would probably still be alive and possibly still indentured to Edelgard. Why he chose to continue his onslaught after successfully chasing away the newly-hired professor still baffled her. Had he not pursued Claude that day, however, they would’ve never met Byleth. Edelgard gazed across the table at her professor. It could’ve very easily been Jerizta in that seat. That was the plan, after all. But now Jeritza roamed free as Death and Byleth was her teacher. It truly was a perverted twist of fate. 

“Incredible, isn’t it? That running away from our problems only multiplies them,” Edelgard said pointedly, glaring at Claude. 

“How many times do I have to say it? I made a  _ strategic retreat.”  _ Claude frowned. 

_ “Is _ there a strategy in retreat?” Edelgard asked. “It seems more like a ploy.”

“Either way, his retreat allowed us to meet the professor, and I am grateful for that.” It was Dimitri that reigned in the growing tension between Edelgard and Claude. “Both Mercedes and Sylvain speak highly of you. I fear I may lose my entire class to you at this rate.” 

“Should they wish it, there are always seats open,” Byleth said. 

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Dimitri sighed, smiling still. Edelgard always wondered what he hid behind that smile. As she watched his expression become more forlorn, she noticed there was a slight red tinge to the white petals on his crown. “Looks like I’ll be fighting to keep them all in my ranks. There is, without a doubt, a magnetic air about you.” 

“I agree. I’m _ thoroughly _ attracted to you,” Claude added coquettishly. The way he gazed from the lip of his goblet at Byleth made Edelgard’s stomach twist uncomfortably. 

Stone-faced as ever, Byleth tore into her glazed chicken, not paying any attention to the silverware by her plate or the leering smirk of Claude.

“Honestly, Claude.” Dimitri shook his head, smiling to himself. 

“Yes, I am being honest,” Claude said with a devious grin. “And allow me to continue being honest in my invitation. Teach, I’d like to reiterate the offer I made previously. When you’re done with this teaching business, you should come with me. There’s no need for you to waste away in the monastery when there are boundless opportunities in the Alliance.”

Edelgard sipped at her mead pensively as she watched Claude unabashedly make his offer.  _ That didn’t take long. _ She knew Claude did not invite Byleth to dine with them because he coveted her company; Byleth was hardly a talkative table guest. What she didn’t know was just how hasty he would be in extending his hand. 

“Without a doubt, there will be several opportunities for you following graduation, Professor,” Dimitri said. “For now, shall we enjoy one another’s company? I’d hate to discuss business during a holiday.” 

“Agreed,” Byleth said. To Edelgard’s surprise, she was smiling at her. A blush stained her cheeks, likely brought on by the mead. “Let’s celebrate our victory. That’s what this holiday’s about. ‘One must take the time to enjoy the spoils of their labor now and again.’”

Seeing Byleth’s smile relaxed Edelgard, but hearing her echo her words from earlier made her blush. She remembered all that? Tucking her hair behind her ear, she laughed to herself. “I’m not used to seeing you this excited.” 

“It’s all that holiday cheer!” Claude laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not trying to piss on the meal; I just wanted to remind ol’ Teach how much she’s wanted.” 

“How thoughtful,” Edelgard said dryly. Before she could take another swig of her mead, a shadow descended over her plate. Looking up, she saw Hubert hovering beside the table with an unreadable expression “Hubert, what is it?” 

“My Lady,” he greeted. He bowed to murmur in her ear, “We must speak privately. It’s urgent.” 

The tone in his hushed voice alarmed Edelgard. Dinner was over. Setting down her cup, she glanced around the table. Her smile felt tight as she said, “I beg your pardon. I have something I need to discuss with Hubert.” 

“Leaving so soon?” Claude frowned. 

“I was hoping we could take the time to get to know each other better,” Dimitri said, looking at her strangely. There was something unspoken in his eyes. “You know, so we may better break down the walls between our Houses.” 

Byleth was silent as she watched Edelgard prepare to leave. Edelgard feared she harbored suspicion, so she hastened her retreat. Standing beside Hubert, she placed her hand meaningfully on his shoulder so he could start walking. 

“Perhaps I can make it to dessert,” Edelgard offered, knowing very well she would not make it for dessert. 

“Perhaps,” Dimitri said. “I bid you farewell, Princess.” 

“Yeah, see you around.” Claude waved, not looking near as disappointed as Dimitri. 

Byleth remained silent, staring intently at Hubert as he walked away. As Edelgard passed, she merely nodded her farewell and returned to tearing apart what was left of her roasted chicken.  _ Did I upset her? _ Edelgard wondered. 

Keeping up with Hubert prevented Edelgard from pondering Byleth’s feelings any longer. He walked with a purpose through the Dining Hall, forcing Edelgard to quicken her pace; the mead churned in her stomach uncomfortably as she moved, unsettled. As Hubert burst through the doors to the outside, Edelgard could breathe again. The icy night air saved her from the sultry heat of the hall, and the laughter and chaos stirring from the feasts attendees was just an echo now. Following him down the steps, she kept beside him as they walked down the pier and onto the wooden dock that stretched into the inky black lake. Moonlight shone in the dark waters of the harbor. Shadows swaddled them, guising them with the black of night. Water lapped at the wooden beams propping up the dock, and the commotion from the feast was nothing but a faint ruckus. 

“So, what is it our friends in Enbarr have written as of late?” Edelgard asked as they looked out across the lake together. She knew that’s why he needed her attention. Business with the capital. 

“Your Highness, it’s your father.” 

Edelgard cradled her elbows in her palms. Mention of him always made her blood run cold. “Father…” Her heart shriveled. She struggled to hide the tremor in her voice. “I take it his condition has not improved?”

“I’m afraid not, Your Highness. He’s health wanes with the moon. I fear we may not have much time left before he passes.”

Edelgard stared at the moon. It smiled back, nothing but a sliver of silver in the sky. She never expected her father’s crawl towards death to quicken into a sprint, not this soon. He fought this illness for moons, why now was he losing?  _ He’s been losing for a long time now, _ she thought.  _ You were just too distracted by Byleth to realize it.  _ Bitter regret tasted like nickel on her tongue, or was it the blood from the bite she made in her lip? 

Silently cursing herself, she dug for an answer to her latest dilemma. “If he passes before we’ve made the necessary preparations, our chances of success are slim to none. Prime Minister Aegir is perched like a vulture at his throne, no doubt.”

“What I wouldn’t give to have  _ him _ become the rotting carcass for vultures to feast on,” Hubert seethed. 

“If my father dies before I can assume the throne, Prime Minister Aegir will have the opportunity to seize total control. I know he’s already planted his friends in the War Council and Imperial Houses. He’ll certainly rule by proxy, for I’ll be nothing but another puppet.” 

“Surely our slithering comrades won’t allow it? They favor you over Aegir, after all,” Hubert said. “Though I loathe to rely on them, the situation is dire. We must let them know of what’s transpired, perhaps enlist their services.”

“No!” Edelgard snapped. “I refuse to call upon them more than I need to. Besides, they likely already know of my father’s failing constitution. Whether I take the throne as an emperor or a figurehead is inconsequential to them. The politics behind my position in the Empire mean nothing to them as long as I bear this Crest they cursed me with. I’ll serve my purpose regardless.

For the sake of my people, I need to claim my right to rule without interference from either the Prime Minister or those slithering fiends. If I allow myself to be crippled before I take the throne, I’ll be no better than my father.” 

“So, what is it you suggest, Lady Edelgard?” 

“How much time does he have left?” 

“Six moons, possibly less.” 

“Alert our friends in the capital to start making preparations for my coronation now. Time is of the essence. I want them to be ready to receive me in less than half that time.” 

Hubert nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness.” 

“This matter is of the utmost confidentiality. We cannot allow anyone to know I intend to ascend the throne prematurely.”

“Of course… And should word get out or a mole start sniffing?” 

“Kill all of those involved,” Edelgard said succinctly. Execution was never an alluring option, but it was necessary. The consequences of allowing an informant to spoil her plans were far too grave. The coronation had to be seamless if Edelgard was to become the emperor her people needed. The mead fermented within her insides at the reality of her call, but she steeled herself against it.

“As you wish, Your Highness. And who will be doing the killing?”

“Death has yet to be released back to my charge, despite his blunder with Flayn.” Edelgard hissed between her clenched teeth. “Thales would cooperate, but I’ve not a good enough excuse to take him back without letting him know of my plans.”

“Leave it to me, Lady Edelgard.”

“Hubert?” 

When she looked upon him, she saw he was bowing to her. His dark hair hid his pale face. “I’m devoted to you as a servant and confidant, Lady Edelgard. This is but a meager task.” 

“Hubert, I couldn’t…” Edelgard hesitated. Should their plot be unveiled to the wrong people, there’s no telling how many souls would have to pay to smother the secret. “You’ve sullied your hands far enough for me.” 

“Lady Edelgard, you know we are only just beginning. It will not be long before moles will be the least of our problems. There’s already blood on my hands. Even when it dries, the blood will remain.” He gazed up at her with that one gleaming golden eye. “It gives me great pleasure to act in your stead. Allow me to keep your hands clean for as long as I can.”

As much as it pained Edelgard, she knew she had no other option. Hubert was the only one she could trust. Squeezing her eyes shut, she relented, “Very well. My trust is in you, as always.” 

Standing upright again, he kept his right hand over his heart. “Your trust will not go to waste.” 

The cold from the outside settled into Edelgard’s bones. Her tongue felt more like a lump of sand in her mouth. Father is dying. The realization turned her bowels to water. She regretted drinking at the table, she regretted allowing her thoughts and actions to be tangled by her feelings for Byleth, she regretted even setting foot in Garreg Mach, knowing her father’s health was failing. Regret was a useless emotion, though. It only taunted what could’ve been. She recentered herself, sighing shakily. 

“I take it you’ve not seen Monica around lately?” Edelgard went on. 

“I’m afraid not, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert said gravely. 

Rippling waves licked at the harbor, louder than before. A cold wind chilled Edelgard.

“I fear I’m losing control, Hubert,” she confessed, rubbing her temples. “I’ve lost the Death Knight. I’m losing my father. Eventually, I’ll lose the Black Eagles and…”  _ Byleth too.  _

Huber was quiet. Then, he said, “It is because of your loss that you’ll be the emperor the Empire needs, Your Highness. You know what it means to lose. Your sacrifices are what make you stronger.”

“I fear what’s to come, Hubert.” Edelgard watched the reflection of the moon shiver on the dark water. “I fear it because I know it’s coming and I’m powerless to stop it, for it is I that wanted it to come in the first place.” Pressure crushed her, but instead of turning from a lump of coal into a diamond, she feared she would become dust. “I know I can’t do this alone. Why else would I employ  _ them?” _

“What’s done is done. It cannot be reversed,” Hubert said. “All we must do is carry on. We cannot stop. Regardless of what Monica and the others are planning, we know what we must do. The throne must be yours.”

“There is blood at my feet, and it spreads to those that choose to stay around me.” Edelgard stared into the water, feeling herself sink. 

“That is their choice.” Hubert’s hand rested on her shoulder. 

“But how much longer will they choose me?”

  
  



	30. A Means to an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard learns of the Black Eagles' mission for the Red Wolf moon.

Snow collected on the windowsill, cushioning the glass with a frame of sparkling ice. Edelgard watched from the bay of her window as it fell onto the cobblestones of Garreg Mach, blanketing the monastery. Outside, priests haunted the grounds swaddled in their pale cowls, looking like sleepy spectres within a world of white. Icicles dangled from the corbels of oriel windows like dripping fangs, creating craters in clumps of snow as they melted slowly beneath the weak sun. Light hid behind the gray clouds, veiled, and only slivers of streaks shone through to illuminate the fallen snow in a silvery twinkle. A chill seeped through the windows, encouraging Edelgard to hug the golden-fringed mantle of her uniform tighter over her shoulders and retreat to the center of her room. 

Bergamot tea waited for her on her vanity; Hubert brought it to her before first light. Wisps of warmth still curled at its golden surface, beckoning Edelgard to drink. Glancing at the mirror of her vanity, she winced at her reflection. She was as pale as the powdered snow, bringing more attention to the darkness beneath her eyes. She’d become a stranger to sleep again as she’d grown more acquainted to her late-night thoughts. Edelgard turned her back to the mirror and the reality of her insomnia. 

_ Knock, knock, knock.  _

Sipping her tea, she paused at the sound of a guest at her door. “Come in,” she prompted, trying her best not to sound as exhausted as she felt. 

Byleth opened the door, entering with a purpose. She gave the room a brief once-over before staring at Edelgard.

“Good morning, my teacher.” Edelgard nodded her hello. She sipped at her tea once more with feigned nonchalance. After leaving her so unexpectedly at the feast, she felt an unspoken apology settle uncomfortably in her throat. She swallowed it for now. 

“We will be receiving our mission for the moon this morning. Would you like to accompany me to the Audience Chamber?” 

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Edelgard said. “I’m waiting to reconcile with Hubert regarding some business at the capital.” 

“Is everything okay?” Byleth asked. 

“It’s nothing out of the ordinary,” she lied, “but I must take time for these transactions. Like you said last night, we’re approaching the twilight of my education. I need to prepare to return home.”

“Home.” She spoke the word as if she’d never heard it before. 

Edelgard hesitated. The tone in Byleth’s voice was strangely dejected. “Yes, my home is Enbarr, the capital of the Adrestian Empire. After I graduate, I’ll need to begin my transition from student to Emperor.” 

“Are you afraid?” Byleth asked. 

“Afraid? Well… No, actually, I’m not.” As she said it, she knew it to be true. “It’s been the one guarantee in my life, and I’ll never take it for granted. I want to be ready for it, completely, so I can be the ruler my people need.”

To her surprise, Byleth was smiling, but her smile did not reach her eyes. “I’m happy for you,” she said softly. 

“You are?” 

Byleth shrugged. “I don’t know what else this feeling could be. If I had to call it something, it’d be happy.”

Edelgard adjusted her pelice nervously, flattening her hands against the scarlet fabric that hugged her thighs. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Maybe it was the silence that begged to be filled between them, or maybe it was the longing in Edelgard, but whatever it was, it possessed her to reach out. “Professor,” she began, smiling softly. 

“Yes?” 

“I apologize for leaving you so unceremoniously last night. I hope those boys didn’t heckle you too much.” Edelgard’s nerve dwindled as she danced around her true intentions. Thankfully, Byleth was gracious enough to remain silent and allow her to continue. “But, they do have a point. It would be foolish to ignore your talents and potential. I see it too. I have seen it since the beginning.” 

Edelgard sat straighter, staring into the golden depths of her cup and seeing a future just as bright. She imagined Byleth by her side as she embarked on her quest for change. There was a host of soldiers standing behind them, raising banners of crimson and gold. Before them awaited a dark cavalry tressed in black and white with lances in hand. It was not a future Edelgard feared. She knew that no matter how many enemies she amassed, as long as Byleth was by her side, she could conquer anything. 

“I’ve also known from the beginning who I will become. I will be the Emperor of the Adrestian Empire. Emperors rule alone, second to none. It’s been so since the dawn of our civilization. As you can imagine, falling under your command, your guidance, came as quite a shock to me.” She watched Byleth carefully as she spoke, but found her consistently unreadable. “But, being your student has allowed me to experience what it’s like to be one of many, rather than one of one. I could never put a value on that. It’s priceless. And… it’s made me very happy... to fight by your side and alongside others.

You’ve proven to me that I can rely on someone. You’ve shown me what it’s like to have someone that’ll support me through the darkness, not because of my station, but because I’m me.” Edelgard couldn’t stop now. “I will always be your grateful student, even once I assume the Imperial throne.”

_ Can’t you see my hand? I’m reaching for you.  _ Edelgard looked up from her tea, noticing that Byleth now stood before her, staring down intently. “When we met, I wished to enlist you in the Imperial Army. I said there was no expiration date on my offer. Well, I take that back. I want you to stay by my side, Professor. I want you to become my Imperial advisor.” 

“I’m unfit to guide an emperor.” Byleth’s laconic answer cauterized the conversation, and Edelgard’s hope. Had she offered her hand in earnest, it would have been severed.

“I see.” Edelgard set down her tea, letting her vision within its golden contents ripple into oblivion. “I am sorry to hear that, truly.” 

“You remind me of a comet,” Byleth said, surprising Edelgard by expounding. “You have something in you that burns brighter than anything I’ve ever seen. You know where you’re going, where you’ll fall, while everyone else remains like a star, shining in one spot until they shine no more. Maybe others will fall with you, maybe they won’t, but that is their choice, and you’ll continue regardless of what they choose. 

I have no light. I am the shadow behind the stars. I can only want the warmth from afar. So, I follow. I chase the sparks.” Byleth gently reached for Edelgard, brushing her cheek. An apology hung in her words. “I can’t be a guide when I know not how to navigate. I can teach you how to kill and how to survive, but beyond that I know nothing else.”

Edelgard brought her hand up to hold Byleth’s as it held her face. She never thought Byleth struggled to do anything, but she could see it now, the pain in her eyes, the war in her soul. Byleth flickered like a candle before her, fighting through the darkness, while wax pooled at her sinking wick. Byleth had a light, but it struggled to shine as she drowned in doubt. Edelgard offered her hand, to pull her out of the darkness and place her by her side, but she knew that it would take more than an offer for Byleth to realize her worth. 

“You’ve taught me more than that,” Edelgard murmured. Byleth pulled her hand back as she stood. This time, it was Edelgard’s turn to hold her face, and she did so softly. Her thumbs traced along Byleth’s cheekbones in an attempt to comfort her. She could beg and plead for Byleth to choose her, but that would be unfair. Byleth needed to make the decision on her own. “You may feel like a shadow, but I’ve never thought of you that way. None of us do.” 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Byleth confessed in a rasp. Raw desperation clawed at her features, and Edelgard felt helpless, for all she could do was watch. Though Byleth stood over her, she seemed small as Edelgard held her. “I don’t know what this is all for. I don’t know what it means.”

Edelgard suspected Byleth spoke about more than her duty as a professor, but she could not fathom what. There was much about Byleth’s life she still didn’t know. All she could do was twine her arms around her neck and pull her close in an embrace. The warmth in her touch could melt all the snow that gathered outside her window. Edelgard needed this closeness as much as Byleth did. How she missed it, oh, how she missed it. She allowed her fingers to comb through her dark hair and enjoy the softness of it. 

“There is no shame in not knowing those things,” Edelgard said, pressing her head into Byleth’s neck. “Life does not bestow meaning upon you, it is you that bestows meaning on life.”

Byleth held onto Edelgard, resting her hands at the small of her back. The warmth between them was gentler than Edelgard remembered. Each was vulnerable to the other's flame, but they did not consume one another. 

Time passed cruelly. The toll of the cathedral’s bells reminded them that it stopped for no one. Byleth was the first to let go. “I need to go to the Audience Chamber now,” she murmured. 

Edelgard stepped back, sighing softly. “Of course. I’m sorry to have kept you.”

Byleth looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she left without another word, shutting the door quietly behind her. Edelgard was forced to stand alone. There was more to Byleth than she thought. In Byleth, there was still a scared child looking for an answer to the most basic, but terrifying question in life: why am I here?

“Oh, good morning, Professor!” A saccharine voice echoed from the hall. It made Edelgard’s skin crawl. “I’m so surprised to see you here. Where are you heading?” Byleth’s muffled response was drowned by the voice’s theatrical gasp. “Oh! The Audience Chamber, I see. Well, don’t let me stop you. I’m just on my way to see Edel.” 

Footsteps, then, the door burst open. “Edel!” 

_ Monica.  _ Edelgard swallowed her disgust as the door shut and trapped her with the snake. Finally, she emerged from the grass, tongue flicking mockingly. She was well-fed, no doubt. What she constricted on and devoured, Edelgard feared to find out. The gleam in her ruby eyes was more unsettling than usual.

“If you’re trying to blend in, perhaps brushing up on common courtesy?” Edelgard suggested, pointing at the door. “When a door is shut, it’s polite to knock before entering.” 

Monica laughed. Her spritely mood only dampened Edelgard’s. “Silly me. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be as welcoming of me as you would the professor.” There was a strange glint in her eyes. “You’re not as…  _ familiar _ with me as you are with her.” Her nostrils flared as she hissed, “I can smell her  _ all over _ you.” 

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but the professor only wanted to see if I’d accompany her to the Audience Chamber,” Edelgard explained tersely. “We are receiving our mission for this moon.”

Monica purred, gazing around Edelgard’s room with unabashed curiosity. Her eyes slid to the chest nestled between the books on her shelf, where the mask of the Flame Emperor resided in secret. Edelgard’s expression darkened. “What do you want, Monica?”

“To tell you about this moon’s mission. It is my duty to keep you informed, after all.” Monica smiled. “Lucky you, not needing to go all the way to Rhea’s cave to find out.” 

“Keep me informed,” Edelgard scoffed. “You tell me what you want to tell me, when you want to tell me. Don’t play me for a fool, Monica. I know you’ve been operating purposefully outside my sight.” 

“Well, I mean, that’s what we do… ‘Slither in the dark.’” She laughed airily. The words made Edelgard recoil. “I apologize if my absence has disturbed you. I didn’t think I’d be missed. Besides, I promised that you would always have the ‘need to know.’ What kind of liaison would I be if I couldn't provide at least that?”

“You’re being facetious and wasting my time.” Edelgard placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. She had to pretend Monica’s presence and leering glare didn’t make her shrivel. “Just say what you need to say and leave.”

“Fine, fine, and I thought you’d want to take the time to catch up.” Monica puckered her bottom lip in a pout only to wipe it away with her narrow smile. “Our failed capture of Flayn was not a complete waste of time,” she began. “What we gained from her while we had her has proven… more than useful in our studies.” 

“Studies?” Edelgard echoed, feeling her blood run cold. “What studies?” 

“Why, the studies of her blood, of course. The dynamic nature of her… species… has proven to be profoundly effective in our subjects, but there is a markedly poor margin of control. Too little blood, they die, too much, and… they go positively bonkers.” Monica shook her head. “There’s no telling of the perfect amount, for there are too many variables at play. Age, sex, health, perhaps even state of mind upon receiving the transfusion… Your kind is miraculously fragile.”

“What does this have to do with the mission?” Edelgard demanded, ignoring the lump in her throat. She felt sick. She knew they would use Flayn’s blood to conduct more research, but she feared to learn to what end. 

“Well,” Monica continued, suddenly more cautious as she gauged Edelgard’s reaction. “The members of the highest order in our organization believed it was time to test subjects in a more  _ organic _ environment. Somewhere they could be observed in coalition with a normal, unaffected populace. The results? Astounding! So much so that it’s garnered the attention of the Knights of Seiros.”

“What have you done?” Edelgard felt cold. 

“I haven’t done anything personally, but I can’t say the same for my comrades,” Monica said. She never stopped smiling. “This is a grand opportunity, you see. We chose the perfect ground for our experiment. Somewhere near and dear to your professor’s heart. We wanted to shake her at the roots while simultaneously gaining scientific knowledge. It is almost certain your dear professor will be sent to defend her home.” 

“Remire Village,” Edelgard realized. Byleth’s roots were soaked in blood, and it was her fault. Edelgard was no longer cold. Instead, she burned, incandescent, as she glared at the snake in her bedroom. “You attacked a village?! With innocent people? For what? Why?” 

“Attacked? No, the townsfolk did--are doing?--that. We merely observed.” Monica frowned, head tilted. “Tell me you see the value in this, Edel. We are working for  _ you.  _ You’ve seen firsthand the fragility of humans. Starting a crusade with mundane soldiers is like trying to split a boulder with a stick! Should we make the breakthrough we need, your army will be supplemented with the fantastic power you need to succeed. This is all for you, our chosen one.” 

“I never wanted this. You, all of you, know I would never want this.” 

“Of course we knew!” Monica seethed, surprising Edelgard with her hiss of anger. Her pupils narrowed into reptilian slits as she bared her fangs. Her playful façade was a distant memory as the snake shed her skin and became a monster. “Why do you think we had to do it without your approval? You know you can’t conquer the Immaculate One alone. You need this. You need an army, a  _ real  _ army, built of beasts and demons, not of ponies and iron. Thales, our Ipsissimus, desires your success just as much as you do.” A breathy, humorless laugh escaped her, sounding more like a hiss. She composed herself, speaking pleasantly again. “Don’t you see, Edel? This is just the beginning. In the end, you will be blessed with a legion of followers that will do your bidding without question. Think not of the sacrifice, think of what is to be gained.” 

For once, Edelgard had no rebuke. She stood before Monica, speechless, as the gravity of the latest calamity took hold and crushed her. Her bowels turned to water, her blood thinned and sunk in her skin. The horror in her heart was no longer reflecting Monica, but herself. 

Edelgard was the cause of the end for the people of Remire. 


	31. Danse Macabre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard and the Black Eagles head out to aid Remire Village. Upon arrival, they witness a gruesome scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING!**  
>  This chapter contains scenes of graphic violence, cannibalism, infanticide, and gore. If you are sensitive to content of this nature, please skip this chapter.

_ I apologize for summoning you all so suddenly, but we must leave for Remire Village. _

Byleth’s words echoed in Edelgard’s head as she pushed through the frozen forest. The icicles that hung from the trees reflected the grave faces of the Black Eagles as they passed. Frostfallen leaves whispered as they fluttered by her face.

_ Strange phenomena have plagued the townsfolk there as of late. It is up to us to continue the investigation on behalf of the Church and of the Knights of Seiros.  _

Ice crunched beneath Edelgard’s boots. The cold was bone-chilling, nestling around her like frozen manacles. Wind whistled through the trees to whirl at her white hair, sending it swirling behind her. 

_ I’m not sure what is going on there exactly, but we must prepare for the worst. _

The march of men was muffled by the slush and slopes of snow. The echo of Byleth’s voice seemed louder now. 

_ Regardless of what waits for us in Remire Village, I know all of you are fully capable of handling this mission. Stay true to what I’ve taught you and continue to support one another. _

In the distance, a cacophony of howling wolves stirred the horses in the Black Eagles’ company. A flurry of flustered whinnies and chuffs sounded as the destriers kicked up mud and snorted billows of ice. Edelgard had to stand aside as the disturbance rippled through the soldiers behind her. The marching all but stopped. Byleth continued staring ahead, keeping her back turned to the chaos as her glare penetrated the icy trail before her. It was Jeralt that ended up addressing the commotion. 

“Halt!” Jeralt cried. His own steed, a fantastic blood bay mare, was unperturbed by the howling chorus in the distance. “Men, calm your horses before you alert the entire forest.” 

Ferdinand was among the men struggling with a spooked horse. His pale face mantled with a blush as he tugged on the reins, clicking his tongue at his silver steed. Petra’s pegasus ruffled his wings, nostrils flared as she calmed him with whispered words. Sylvain’s white stallion reared, whinnying in distress. The other soldiers of the Knights of Seiros wrestled with their own destriers, each looking more nervous than their mounts as their commander eyed them with a piercing glare.

“We’re wasting time,” Byleth murmured. She squirmed in her armor. “The red wolves wouldn’t dare approach us with a host as large as ours.”

“Try telling the horses that,” Jeralt said dryly. He surveyed the discord with a displeased twitch plaguing his leathered face. “The Knights of Seiros breed the finest of warhorses, but none of them are meant for ranging. I’m sure Sir Shamir would agree with me.”

Sir Shamir, quiet up until this point, merely glanced at the unravelling and shrugged. “Don’t ask for my opinion on mounts,” she said. “If it were up to me, we’d all be on foot. What we’d lack in speed, we’d make up for in stealth.” 

“We should have brought our own men,” Byeth grated. “It should be Remire’s mercenaries coming to the defense of their home, not them.” Her hand gripped the pommel of her sword tighter. “Leave them if we must. We need to keep moving.”

Seeing Byleth so impatient was more than a shock to Edelgard. Her usually poised and unaffected professor now glared ahead with such intensity, she feared she would abandon them all to continue her march ahead. Edelgard shuffled with discomfort against the cold from the outside air and the slowly smoldering heat from her teacher. Byleth had acted this way since they departed Garreg Mach. Edelgard understood why. Remire Village, Byleth’s home, lay under siege by a mysterious force; only Edelgard could put a face on the chaos, but that did not comfort her the way it should’ve. Instead, she felt like an apple hiding a rotten core among a decent bushel. If anyone dared take a bite of her to see what was within, it would leave a bad taste in their mouth. 

“You know why I chose to leave them behind,” Jeralt said. “If what Sir Shamir claims is true, we are to be met with madness ahead, and when that madness afflicts your loved ones, it becomes your own.” 

Sir Shamir’s expression curdled. “When my scouts and I departed Remire, the state of it was in decay. Few villagers were in good health. I doubt the situation has improved since then.” 

“Then why stop?” Byleth demanded, startling Edelgard. “Leave these men and their skittish horses with Sir Shamir.” 

“Had I known you’d behave this way, I would’ve left you behind in Garreg Mach with the rest of Remire’s mercenaries.” The edge in Jeralt’s voice cut through the frigid air, causing the icicles above them to shiver.

The horses cooled as the echo of Jeralt’s voice carried between them and silence fell upon the company once more. Jeralt eyed the soldiers meaningfully before turning his destrier back towards the head, signalling for them to move out. Edelgard resumed her march beside Byleth. The howling grew more distant as they persisted their trek. Edelgard could imagine the wolves running through the blankets of white, pelts burning with the flame of the sinking sun. It was as red as a ruby in the silver sky, shining down on the Black Eagles with false promises of warmth. Winter sunk its fangs into Fodlan without remorse, shocking the landscape in stark white and scaring the leaves from the trees. 

“Let it bleed out, Byleth.” Jeralt’s rasping voice broke the silence between them. A note of remorse clung to his words. “Wearing your heart on your sleeve only makes it easier for the enemy to pierce it.” 

Byleth frowned as she glared ahead. Then, almost like magic, it melted away. Edelgard’s eyes widened as her features bled dry and became blank once more. The cold, unfeeling woman she knew returned, and Edelgard found herself missing the glimpse of heart she had before. The woman Byleth became was the woman she knew, but Edelgard wondered what it would be like to have met the woman she was before. 

“We owe the people of Remire much,” Jeralt said. “I understand why you’d be upset, but anger and sadness cannot become our sword and shield; emotions bend, steel does not.” 

“With enough heat, even steel will bend, Jeralt.” It was not an argument, but a statement of fact. Byleth brooded like the sullen shadows around them.

Edelgard stared down at her boots as they continued their trek towards Remire. Just how much, and how often, did Byleth have to bury her emotions? Did she even realize she buried them? She glanced at her teacher, seeing nothing and everything at once. Byleth  _ had _ to be this way. Edelgard knew all too well what happened when one entered battle with a heavy heart. It was always Byleth that came to her aid when her emotions got the best of her. But who came to Byleth’s aid? Edelgard gazed meaningfully at Jeralt. 

Beyond Jeralt, a figure lay crumpled on its side. Edelgard froze like the world around her. The snow surrounding the figure drank the blood that flowed from it until it turned lush with red. The soiled tunic that clothed the man rippled in the wind like a living thing, torn into several thin, black banners. Jeralt, Sir Shamir, and Byleth halted too, all comprehending what the pathetic shape was at different times. 

It was Flayn that broke from formation first. “Sir! Are you alright?!” 

“Flayn!” Sir Shamir called out, but it was Byleth that went after her, and it was Edelgard that went after Byleth. 

Flayn crouched over the body. White Magic flickered from her fingertips as she turned the man onto his back. Edelgard saw his face, or lack thereof, from over Flayn’s shivering shoulders. Pulps of flesh remained around strange bite marks that pulsed weakly with blood. One eye remained, gray and unseeing; the other was reduced to a socket of fluid. Crescent-shaped teeth marks looked like gory pock marks along his grizzled neck. Bloody scratches coursed through his tunic, leaving it sodden. From his trembling, cracked lips blood spurted like a dying fountain. “Y-you…” His eye rolled, glazed over, until it found Byleth. 

“Ludwig.” How Byleth recognized the man was a mystery to Edelgard. 

“What happened to you?” Flayn asked in vain. 

The sound of galloping hooves came from behind, then the crunch of snow as Jeralt went down on his knees before the dying man. “He’s a farmer from Remire.” Jeralt searched the man’s face desperately for reprieve, but found none. In spite of this, he asked, “Ludwig, what happened?” 

“No amount of White Magic can save him,” Byleth said coldly. She turned her back on the body to survey the perimeter with a sharp glare in her eyes.

“He’s with the goddess now,” Flayn agreed solemnly. Her hands clasped before her chest as she shut her eyes in prayer. 

_ No amount of prayer could save him either, _ Edelgard thought balefully. “What could’ve done this?” she demanded. 

“It wasn’t a wolf,” Jeralt said. His leathered face tightened with a frown. “These bite marks are strange to me.” 

“They almost look human,” Flayn said. “But what would possess a person to do this to another person?” 

They had little time to ponder, for Death summoned His ebony couriers. They perched on the bone-white branches of the trees around the corpse, cawing for Ludwig to come home. They would guide his flesh piece by piece down their gullets, dismantling the temple so the soul may be free. Edelgard held her breath, unable to recall a time she had seen so many crows in the same place at once. They gazed back at her with an eerily human look of knowing. It wasn’t until the forest began to darken that she knew. Above, in a mass of black, crows flooded the sky, crying out for their feast to come. A feast was a rare thing in the colder moons, a cause for celebration. Like plumes of smoke, they hid the blood-red sun. 

“We need to go,” Byleth said. 

They were running. Steam spilled from their lips into the ice-cold air as a new sense of urgency flooded them. The crows moved faster on their feathered wings. Some descended upon Ludwig, flapping eagerly in the redwine snow as they partook in the first of many meals. The clangor of their charge paralleled the cry of crows. Screams carried through the woods, shivering between the skeletal trees to stir the icicles on the branches. They grew louder the nearer they drew to Remire. When forest heeded to hills, the chorus of screams crescendoed into caterwauls. 

“Remire Village… it’s… burning.” Jeralt tugged on the reins of his destrier, bringing the charge to a halt. 

Before him, the gates of Remire yawned to unveil a wall of flames. Smoke belched from the tongues that lapped at the ashy sky, swallowing the cackling crows that circled the perimeter. A single horse managed to flee the village. It was a beacon of flame, with its mane set alight and its body smeared red. Its wild black eyes found Edelgard, and in them the flames of the burning village danced. Embers fell from its fiery mane as the horse became a living torch and sprinted into the dark woods to perish into ash. 

Within the flames, dead men walked. The heat of the fire turned their skin as white as snow, until it became impossible to decipher bone from flesh. Their mouths moved slowly, too slow to echo the screams, making them look suspended in a time all their own. Their limbs were stretched at either side, walking like puppets with their strings pulled too tight. As one fell to the cinders, another came forward, but none broke free from the inferno. 

“They’re trying to run,” Byleth realized. She gazed into the flames. What could be so terrifying behind the fire that would make death by burning more desirable? 

“But from what?” asked Jeralt. 

Sweat gathered in Edelgard’s palms until they grew clammy. She balled her hands into fists, but that did not stop them from shaking. They had yet to enter the threshold of the village, and already she felt sick with guilt. The corpses piling at the gates danced in the flames for her, for her cause. What cause was this? All armies were built on blood, but no, not like this. She shut her eyes, but that only made the screams louder. There was no hiding from this. 

“Forward!” Jeralt cried. “These people need us!”

“How will we cross the flames?” Sir Shamir asked as they neared. 

“This fire; it’s not natural.” Flayn’s timorous voice trembled from behind. She watched the blaze with wide eyes. “Magic caused this.” 

“Well, unless we have wielders partial to Fire, we aren’t crossing without ending up like those poor souls,” Sir Shamir said, gesturing to the growing stack of burnt bodies. 

“Mercedes, Edelgard, and I can split the flame,” Byleth decided. “We aren’t as well-versed in Black Magic as others in our company, but we are the only ones that can use Fire.”

Mercedes came forward from the ranks as Byleth said her name. Her eyes were moist with emotion as the flames flickered within them. “I’ll do anything if it means we can save these people,” she said softly. 

The three faced the inferno, hands radiating with the red glow of their magic. In unison, they pried apart the air before them as if they were tearing through the flames themselves. The flames shook with a tremor, sparking wildly as their combined magic peeled away at the blazing wall. Sweat slickened Edelgard’s brow, quickening down her face as the effort tested her. The Black Magic behind the barrier was strong, and she knew why. The truth sat cold and heavy like a stone in her gut: one of the slitherers was here. Part of her wished, selfishly, that the flames would not bend to their magic and that the horrors beyond would forever remain a mystery. But reality was cruel, and their magic prevailed. Only embers remained, surrendering to a wall of black smoke that smoldered with a hushed hiss. 

“Nicely done.” Byleth turned to them. “Let’s go.” 

The march felt longer the closer they got to the gates. Cobblestone walls smoldered with heat after the barricade of fire worked to reduce stone to a pyre. A blackened corpse clung to the wall with ghastly adhesiveness, scorched in its scramble for safety; the grimmest of greeters at the gate. Its arms reached for the wall, clawing, while its mouth remained perpetually agape in a silent wail.

The smoke bowed to their entry, swirling around their armor and horrified expressions as the curtain drew back on the chaos within. A mob of villagers clustered in the heart of Remire, which pounded with their screams and the freshly spilt lifeblood on its stones. Mercedes brought her hand over her mouth to smother a scream of her own while Edelgard stood beside her, unable to comprehend which of the heaving bodies was the victim and the victimizer. Some villagers laughed, shadows dancing against the few flames that remained, with skin so translucent it unveiled webs of tangled black veins that darkened into macabre stars at the major arteries. Their eyes were unseeing as they cackled, sitting on their faces like bulging eggs in a nest of inky branches. Inhuman was their strength, and Edelgard witnessed it firsthand as a pair blindly grappled at an elderly man, tugging at him like he was a scrap of meat in a frenzy; in their fight for his body, they tore his gangly limbs from his torso, and did not stop tearing even as he begged for mercy. Foam clustered at the corners of their smiling mouths as they salivated over the blood and ate him like rabid dogs. 

Bodies, some still bleeding, surrounded them. Of the crazed villagers, some held pikes made of the beams that once upheld their houses, toting heads of their fellow townsfolk in a parade that would make Death proud. 

“No, sister, dear! Can’t you see? Stop! I beg you, stop!” The fervent cries of a mother echoed from the commotion as her baby was torn from her breast. She wailed as the creature that was once her sister opened the babe’s belly with her hand. Mother fell, soon flung into the wall by another villager where her head and her misery was dashed. 

The smell of the feast of flesh and the burnt bones assaulted Edelgard, making her eyes water. The echoing laughter of madness, the corruption in the veins of the villagers, the vacancy in their white eyes; it all was hauntingly familiar to Edelgard. She had seen this madness before. Memories conjured from the deepest recesses of her mind forced her to harken to the sound of rattling manacles and the sight of torchlight unveiling men, women, and children that mirrored these deranged people around her; only those people were bound and forced to turn feral in chains, while these others were free to run amok. 

“This is horrific,” Edelgard said. 

“Terrifying.” By her side, she felt Byleth. She bore witness to the atrocities with a new expression. Wide-eyed, lips parted wordlessly, face a shade paler than before, fear colored Byelth’s features for the first time. 

“The situation turned faster than I would’ve thought,” Sir Shamir murmured. “When I left, the people you see rampaging now were bedridden, not… not like this.” 

“Blood of my blood; it must be given, not taken.” Flayn’s expression froze over, her eyes somewhere distant. Her words were just above a whisper, as if she were in a trance. Edelgard stared at her curiously, wondering if anyone else heard her cryptic saying. 

A group of children remained hidden behind the doors of one of the few remaining houses. Outside, men with crude spears and faces smeared with ash and blood guarded them from the onslaught of their insane neighbors. Upon seeing Jeralt and Byleth, they hailed them with a look of insurmountable relief. 

Jeralt did not share their elation. “What must we do?” He spoke to no one in particular. “This situation is dynamic. I know not who is afflicted and who is sane.” 

“Well, the ones tearing their fellow man apart are afflicted, and those screaming in agony are not,” Sir Shamir said with a color of impatience.

“Should I cut them down, others could turn, like the serpent that grows more heads when one is severed. Too many are covered in ash and blood to tell the difference in the heat of battle. I can’t have more of these people slaughtered.” The impatience in Jeralt’s voice matched his comrade’s, and they glared at one another in a deadlock. 

Edelgard scanned through the carnage and smoke and fire, finding them. Her glare burned brighter than the flames that flickered around her. Safely from the steps of the village’s church, in the shadow of its single steeple, stood Tomas. At his flank, mirroring the red of the blaze in his black armor, was the Death Knight. Together they stood sentinel to the unfolding madness, as if they were witnessing flowers bloom. Gritting her teeth, Edelgard nearly choked as she tried to swallow her building rage. 

“There.” Edelgard pointed eagerly to the beast in ropes and the man in black armor. “They’re watching these people kill one another. They must be involved somehow.” 

“Tomas?” Sir Shamir looked on in disbelief. “But it was he that came to the village’s aid while Manuela remained in recovery. Even once she healed, he insisted he had the illness under control. How could--” Her expression sharpened when the coincidences aligned to reveal the truth. “The snake. It was he that plagued them.” 

“And the Death Knight,” Jeralt growled. “The Death Knight came to protect him, no doubt.” 

The Death Knight,  _ her  _ Death Knight, once again used in a ploy that was not her own. Edelgard released her axe from its straps. They will rue the day they preyed upon Remire Village. This was not for her, it was for  _ them. _ It always was. It was up to Edelgard to try and undo what was done, but it was Byleth that charged into the chaos, leaving her students behind her. 

  
  



End file.
